Divided We Fall
by CurbysNephew
Summary: 10K fights a battle against a new way of life after a choice is made for him that he would never have chosen himself. The group falters. It might be the end for them, if they allow it... RATING M. Contains violence, gore, and sexuality. Sequel to 'The Stranger' but it stands alone, so you'll be okay if you haven't read it.
1. Epilogue

STORY: Divided We Fall

Rating: T for now

Warnings: Violence, gore, possibly some sexuality later on

A/N: This is a short epilogue, to test the waters. Enjoy. Feedback is appreciated.

Chapter One

"Epilogue"

Once the infection started, it spread fast, like a weed. Antibiotics had little to no effect, and the fever took 10K within 24 hours. It was only another day before he had fallen into a coma. Another few hours before his heart gave out under the fever, and his breathing stopped. All hope lost for his recovery... the infection had only taken three days to put him on the edge of death. And then he had slipped over the edge.

"He's not responding!"

"Hit him again! Harder!"

"It's not working, Addy! There's no pulse, no breathing-"

"Damn it, Doc, move over!"

"Addy... the compressions are only injuring him more..." the Doc's voice trailed off to silence, cut off by tight emotion.

"I said move! Come on, 10K... come on..."

"Doc, let her try..." Warren's voice had a few broken notes. "Just let her try..."

Doc slumped back against the side of the van, his face sweaty, his hands held before him. 10K lay on the floor in the back of the van, lifeless, his eyes halfway closed. With every compression that Addy applied to his chest, blood leaked out from between the opened bandages. Under the gauze, the boy's wounds were festering visibly. The skin was red and swollen around the clear, plastic tube, and there were dark, vein-like threads spread up and down his body from the site of the infection, under his skin.

"We should have known..." Vasquez's accented voice muttered somewhere near by. "Injuries like that... we could not have expected to-"

"Shut up!" Yelled Addy, continuing to perform CPR. She bent over 10K's face and tipped up his chin, pinching his nose shut with her fingers and breathing into his mouth. She breathed for him again, and again, then straightened up and returned to the chest compressions, one after another, at a fast pace. "COME ON!"

"Addy, he will not make it," said Vasquez in a quiet voice.

"Yes he will! Yes he WILL!" After another sharp compression, she bent over him again to breathe for him.

Just then, Murphy's voice cut across the others, loud and commanding. Uncharacteristically commanding, so much so that it stopped the others in their tracks.

"Everyone stop what you're doing."

Addy looked up, taking her lips from 10K's mouth and letting go of his nose with her fingers. Doc turned slowly to look at Murphy, his face pale under the sweat, and his eyes glassy. Warren and Vasquez gave Murphy their attention, too, as silence fell over the occupants of the van.

"That's better," said Murphy. Though his voice sounded tense, there was a measure of confidence to it that struck the others, whether they wanted to take notice or not. "I think we all know the way this has to go." Murphy's eyes moved slowly from the faces of his comrades, flickering to 10K's unmoving form on the floor. The blue-skinned man swallowed hard, hesitating a moment, before looking back to the others. "There's only one thing that will save his life, and all of you know it."

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A/N: Yes, I know it's short. Like I said, just testing the waters. Seeing what people think about this story arc.


	2. Awaken

Chapter Two

"Awaken"

The first thing he was aware of as consciousness crept back to him was that his body felt numb. No... wait, it wasn't numb... but there was no pain. With his eyes still closed, he clenched his fists by his sides, and he could feel his fingers digging into his palms. Not numb...

He opened his eyes, and blinked. He was lying on his back, looking up at the open sky, and it must be nearly sunset. His eyes slowly began to adjust to the late afternoon light, and as they did, he came to realize there were faces around him. He turned to look first at one, then another, blinking again. He felt like he was coming back to consciousness much more slowly than he should have been.

"10K?" Came a soft, female voice beside him.

"You awake, kid?" Another voice, this one male, and in the same soft, careful tone as the first voice. "Can we help you sit?"

10K... that was his name. Ten Thousand.

With the emergence of that memory came a flood of countless more, images of his childhood, of the start of the outbreak... and memories of his journey across the United States. The mission.. his friends.. their encounter with the zombie collector...

He sat up suddenly, and a wool blanket fell off his chest. "Where are we?" he asked in a hoarse voice, staring at each them. The group was sitting around him on the flat, desert ground, though Addy and Doc had risen to their knees when they saw him move.

"You okay?" asked Doc, reaching a hand toward 10K's shoulder and bracing it, as though he thought 10K might tip backward or sideways.

"I'm fine..." murmured 10K, though his confusion was deepening. Warren was watching him closely, and Vasquez was eyeing him with a slightly uncertain look on his face.

Looking down at himself, 10K pressed his hand lightly against his ribs and his chest through his shirt. He rested his fingers in the center of his chest, where the plastic tube had protruded, and his frown of bewilderment grew more defined as he realized that touching the area didn't cause him any pain. He pulled out the front collar of his shirt to look down under it. The plastic tubing was gone, and the area was covered in clean gauze and duct tape. He looked slowly back up, his eyebrows drawn together as he let go of his shirt, and turned back to Doc. "What happened?"

Doc glanced away for a moment, not seeming to want to meet 10K's eyes. He let his hand drop a little, looking sideways at Warren and Murphy, before turning to look back at 10K. "You were dying..." he said in a low voice. "The fever... you were a goner."

"There was no other way to save your life," said Warren, in what was probably her version of a gentle tone. "Nothing else could have been done to save you. So we did what we had to do."

10K listened without moving. His mind felt slower and fuzzier than it should have, though his focus was beginning to sharpen up. _Dying?_ He remembered some of the delirium of the fever, but he had no memory of anything after that. He fixed his eyes on Warren, trying to push down a sudden sense of foreboding. "What did you have to do?"

Warren looked down for a second, just like Doc had, and turned her gaze sideways. 10K followed her line of sight, his eyes falling on Murphy, who sat at the edge of the circle, already looking back at him. The blue skinned man's expression was unreadable, and he didn't look away. "I had to bite you," he said in a low, quiet voice.

10K heard Murphy, but his words didn't register for another few moments. When they finally did, he felt his muscles lock up and his eyes widen. "You bit me?" He repeated loudly, his voice rising at the end, and he tried to stand up clumsily.

"10K - sit still for a minute," Warren ordered him, her hand on his arm. A few of the others had moved to try and stop him; he felt more pairs of hands on his back and sides.

10K allowed them to coax him back to the ground, his eyes finding Murphy again, who hadn't moved. "I don't understand," he said under his breath, glancing between all of them. He felt the hands release him, and Warren sat back as well, letting go of his arm.

Addy was kneeling near his left side. "He bit you to save your life," she told him softly.

The group had backed off a little after 10K sat back down. He took that opportunity to quickly get to his feet, fast enough that they couldn't react in time. He started to visually search his body as the others stood up around him, pulling up each sleeve to search his arms, then lifting the bottom of his shirt to look underneath. He craned his neck to try and see his lower back. Straightening up, he looked at his hands, both sides... and he reached up to feel the sides of his face. His movements became slower as he turned to stare at Murphy, letting his hands drop.

"You didn't bite me," he said under his breath. He didn't believe that it could be true. After all, he was still thinking like his old self... he wasn't some drooling freak... he wasn't like Cassandra...

Murphy stared back at him, his expression heavy. He rubbed a hand over his mouth and chin, before finally answering. "Back of the neck." His voice was grim.

10K reached a hand to cover the back of his neck. His breathing quickened almost imperceptibly. There, he could feel it... a fresh injury; thin ridges of broken skin under his fingers. He inhaled quickly, taking his hand off his neck. "No..." he muttered, shaking his head as flood of panic took him, "No, no... I'm not..."

Addy came up beside him, putting an arm around his shoulder, but he took a step backward, away from her. "It's okay, 10K," Addy urged, trying to reach for him again, "Please calm down..."

But 10K shook his head again, moving away from her, almost bumping into Doc at the edge of the semi-circle. For a brief moment he looked up at Doc's face, and Doc looked back at him. Then Doc was reaching for him too, and he pushed sideways past him, away from the circle. "10K!"Doc called after him, taking a few running steps in his wake.

10K was in a full run. His feet hit the hard, packed earth with dull thuds as he sprinted for all he was worth, leaving the group in the dust behind him.

Their calls grew more distant as he picked up his pace. He could tell they were following him, but he was much faster... He felt the hot, desert wind hit his face as the sun dipped under the horizon, and ahead of him, he could see a hill. It was probably the only hill for miles around, and he made for it at top speed. He scaled up the side of the steep slope, tripping a few times, and scrabbling his way up until he came to the top, where he halted.

He stared out across the desert, barely out of breath. Not a building, or a human, live or undead, could be seen. The sinking sun cast stark shadows across the landscape as the sky turned pink and orange, and the silence stretching across the desert pressed on his ears. What was he doing...?

The breathless voices of the others began to reach him as they neared.

"Why didn't you stop him?"

"Did you want me to throw him over my shoulder, Roberta?"

"You idiot, you know what I mean... he's in no shape to be running off into the desert at night."

There was a long pause. 10K didn't turn around or move from the top of the hill. Perhaps they didn't know he could hear them from up here...

"I didn't bite him so he would follow my orders," said Murphy, verging on anger.

"I know you didn't... I know," said Warren, lowering her voice as the group reached the shadow at the base of the hill.

"Hey... 10K? Kid?" Doc called up the slope.

10K turned around to look down at him.

"Come on back with us," said Doc, beckoning urgently with his hand. "There are Z's, raiders, marauders, you name it out here."

Murphy and the others watched in silence.

10K still didn't move. His eyes darted to Murphy, and his hands slowly clenched into fists at his sides. "You turned me into one of them."

Murphy pushed through Warren and Doc, to stand closer to the base of the hill. "I only did it to save your life, kid." His tone was commanding, but softened by real worry. "To save your life. I won't use it to control you."

"You could have let me die," said 10K, and there was a low growl in his voice. He wrapped an arm around his front, holding tightly to where his wounds had been.

Addy wiped a tear off her cheek, taking a few steps up the side of the slope. "We need you, 10K. And we almost lost you."

"She's right, kid," said Doc, moving forward as well. "No one else can shoot like you..."

"Or run like you," muttered Murphy sarcastically, still looking ragged from their lengthy sprint.

10K looked away from them, facing the horizon again from the top of the hill. He slowly reached up to touch the bite mark on his neck, covering it with his palm. The last rays of sunlight filtered into darkness, and the pink sky faded to black. Night had fallen, and they would need to get back to the van, unless they wanted to be caught in the open by Z's or by hostiles...

10K realized he was being logical. Maybe he was still himself... maybe he still had a soul.

But no... he should have died, rather than to live under someone else's control. Death would not be worse than that...

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Reviews are appreciated!


	3. 24 Hours Later

Chapter Three

"24 Hours Later"

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The group was preparing for dinner beside their van in the darkness. A makeshift grill had been constructed out of coat hangers over a small fire, and small strips of pale meat sizzled on it, along with a few opened cans of beans. Every so often, Addy would reach forward to stir the beans with a fork, and soon, they were bubbling and hot.

It had been twenty-four hours since 10K had awoken, twelve hours of which had been spent driving, and he'd spoken barely a word to any of them. He was particularly set on avoiding any and all contact with Murphy. As Murphy approached the small fire, heading for a seat beside the van near 10K, the boy stood up with his metal bowl. "Stay away from me," he muttered in Murphey's direction, relocating to the other side of the fire, almost beyond the reach of its light.

Murphy paused in the act of sitting, and looked at 10K across the flames. _Kid looks like hell..._ he thought grimly, noting the boy's paleness, and the darkness around his eyes. That hadn't been there before..

Finally Murphy exhaled slowly and sat down. "You know... I don't have to be near you to control you," he told 10K. "I told you, kid. I won't use it, alright?"

10K didn't answer. He looked away, and pretended to be cleaning the inside of his metal bowl as Warren and Addy came into the firelight, carrying plates.

"Sorry, guys," said Warren, sitting down, "Only one of us gets the fork." She looked between them, like a cat dangling a juicy mouse in front of a dog.

"Go for it, Warren," said Addy, grinning. "Enjoy the good life."

"Good life, my ass..." said Warren, taking the fork from Addy and using it to put the meat from the grill onto one of the plates. With a towel wrapped around her hand, she did the same with the beans, placing the hot cans on another plate and tossing the towel aside.

10K watched the group out of the corner of his eye. He glanced back across the fire at Murphy, but looked quickly away again, so as not to draw his attention. He couldn't even really look at Doc.

Warren noticed how far the boy was sitting from the warmth of the fire. "You'll get cold pretty quick," she said to him, tilting her head sharply toward the flames. The temperature had plummeted after the sun had gone down.

Addy had noticed, too, so she passed a plate of cooked meat in 10K's direction. He came forward slightly to take some, settling down a little nearer to the warmth.

"What did you say this meat is, 10K?" Asked Doc. He was already chewing a piece of it with a very puzzled look on his face.

"Tortoise," answered 10K without much expression, and he tore off a chunk of it in his teeth.

Doc swallowed the meat dubiously, stared at the plate for a few seconds as if deciding what to think, and then reached for another strip. "Not too ba'," he commented, through a full mouthful.

"Better than another night with only beans," grouched Murphy. He reached a hand out over the fire, as if inviting 10K to pass him the plate, but 10K pretended not to notice, so he leaned over and grabbed it himself. "Good to have fresh food, for a change."

Addy gazed around as she chewed, trying to see through the darkness toward the van. "Where's Vasquez?"

"Nature called," answered Warren, who hadn't started on the meat yet. "Murphy, pass the plate."

Murphy obliged, taking an extra strip for himself before handing it over. He shoved it into his mouth and chewed, with a subtle glance at 10K, but a moment later he stopped chewing, stopped moving completely. He raised his eyes to the darkness beyond the fire.

"Murphy?"

Murphy looked down, and realized the others were watching him. "What?"

"What's wrong?" Asked Warren.

Murphy finished chewing the bite and swallowed it, slowly getting to his feet and staring out into the blackness again. "I thought I heard something..."

Warren put down her plate and stood as well, turning her head in all directions and trying to listen. "Where?" she asked quietly.

10K and Doc stood up too, followed by Addy, all of them moving their hands to their weapons. They weren't able to see further than the eight feet of light cast by the fire.

Murphy didn't answer Warren, and his brow creased as he listened hard. The others remained silent, and all that could be heard were the softly crackling flames of the small fire. The silence drew on for long minutes, until finally, Warren turned to look at Murphy. "I don't hear anything."

Murphy held up his hand for more silence, closing his eyes for a second. His face tensed with concentration, and no one spoke. Then, Murphy opened his eyes. "There's a herd coming."

There was a brief moment of quiet after he spoke, and then Doc hissed a swear. He went to the fire and kicked dirt into it, smothering the flames, as Warren ran to the driver's side of the van. "Packing time! Get all our stuff in the van!" She turned the key in the ignition and the engine growled to life. Behind her, Addy, Doc, Murphy, and 10K were already piling into the back of the van, carrying their food wares in their arms.

"Go," said Murphy urgently. "There are forty of them, at least. I can't control that many."

Warren shook her head sharply, looking out through the windshield into the darkness. "Vasquez."

"Vasquez is out there!" yelped Addy, kicking the door of the van back open. She climbed out, followed by 10K. "Vasquez!" she whisper-shouted into the darkness, "Hurry the hell up! There's a herd on us!"

"Get back in the van," ordered Warren shortly, revving on the gas pedal to try and alert Vasquez of the van's immediate location. She didn't want to turn on the headlights until the last possible moment.

Just then, the growling and snarling of the herd reached their ears. The zombies were closing in, and they must be fast; the growls got quickly louder.

"VASQUEZ!" Shouted Warren, abandoning stealth as she pushed the van into first gear, and flicked on the headlights. The flat desert of New Mexico stretched before them, flooded by the light from the vehicle, and she stared at a writhing mass of zombies, all of them stumbling and running and tripping, hot on Vasquez's trail.

"Oh, shit..." muttered Doc.

"DRIVE WOMAN!" yelled Murphy, reaching forward to try and pull 10K and Addy back inside, but 10K jumped out of reach.

In the arc of the headlights, two hundred meters away, the zombies were catching up to Vasquez. The man yelled, waving his arms at the van as he ran toward it, still trying to finish pulling up his pants.

10K saw all it happening as if in slow motion, his wide eyes fixed on the oncoming herd. Then abruptly, he shouldered his rifle and took aim, shooting one of the zombies in the head. He dropped another one with another shot, hardly aware of the others yelling at him to get back into the van. Instead of listening to them, he ran forward, away from the van, and toward the oncoming tide of freaks. He shot another one of the zombies right through the skull, and another, counting inside his head as each one fell.

But Vasquez tripped over his unbuckled pants, and fell tumbling to the ground with a piercing shout. He rolled and tried to get back on his feet, but the Z's were on him too soon, and they closed in around him, lunging for his body. Vasquez's screams rent the air as he disappeared under the herd, and 10K took off running toward him.

"STOP! 10K! STOP!"

"KID, IT'S TOO LATE! COME BACK!"

But 10K wouldn't stop. Nothing could stop him now. He should have died with the fever. He shouldn't be alive tonight. That should be him under that herd, not Vasquez... why should he live, while Vasquez dies?

At that moment, he found himself screeching to a halt. Some of the Z's saw him, and broke away from the rest to give chase. 10K turned on his heel and ran from them at top speed toward the van, which he jumped into, slamming the door shut behind him. With a cloud of rocky dust, the van sped into motion. Warren hung the wheel right, and the vehicle bumped and rocketed across the terrain, putting more and more distance between them and the herd.

The passengers of the van were thrown about, having to grab onto seats and handles to stop themselves from flying into each other. As the terrain evened out, 10K let go of the back of the passenger seat, allowing himself to bounce lightly back against the closed van door. He was staring at the floor, and his rifle dropped from his shoulder to his lap. There was a thoroughly confused expression on his face as he slowly turned to look out the rear window.

"It was too late," breathed Warren from the driver's seat, keeping her eyes on the road. Her knuckles were white around the steering wheel. "We couldn't have saved him."

Addy dropped her forehead into her hand and shook her head, closing her eyes. "I know."

Doc was silent, staring out the front and side windows, still holding tightly to his pistol on his lap.

10K drew his eyes away from the blackness behind them to look slowly over at Murphy. He was starting to put the puzzle pieces together in his head... Why had he turned back around? He hadn't meant to... he had meant to run straight into that wall of Z's...

Murphy's eyes were fixed on him and 10K didn't break the gaze.

Finally, Murphy leaned forward in his seat toward the row ahead, toward 10K. "I had to do it," he said with some difficulty, watching 10K closely. "I'm sorry, kid.."

10K continued to stare at the man. "You used it?" He said quietly, his expression unreadable.

"Those Z's would have torn you apart. It was too late for Vasquez, but you - "

"I could have helped him."

"You would've ended up ground meat, and you know it."

10K felt a hot anger burgeoning in his chest. "You said you wouldn't..."

From the expression on Murphy's face, he wasn't sorry at all. But seeing the gleam in 10K's eyes, he softened his response, trying to get through to the kid. "I didn't think you were ripe for a suicide mission when I made that deal, 10K..."

"Stop the van," said 10K loudly. He looked to the others, only to find that all but Warren were already staring at him and Murphy. There were frozen looks of uncertainty on their faces. "Stop the van," he said again, leaning forward to grab onto the back of Warren's seat.

"We're not stopping, 10K," Warren replied in a firm voice. "We need to keep driving."

"Stop the van," yelled 10K angrily, "Let me out!"

"I'll stop the van when we get to Roswell, and not before. I won't let you endanger our mission like this, 10K."

"It's not my mission. I don't have anything to do with it, and I have nothing to do with any of you."

Doc turned around in his seat, his electric blue eyes locking on 10K in stark concern. "Kid... listen to yourself... it's us you're talking to. Your friends.."

"No, you listen to me," said 10K in an undertone, shaking his head. "I'm leaving. Don't try to stop me..." his unsteady voice trailed off, and he turned to stare at Murphy again, his eyes flashing angrily. "Don't try to stop me."

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	4. Night Drive

Chapter Four

"Night Drive"

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Murphy watched the back of 10K's head as they drove through the night. None of them spoke, or slept. Not even Doc. 10K had fallen into silence, his hand on the butt of his rifle, gripping it so tightly his knuckles turned white. He had given in to Warren's refusal to stop, but only barely. Murphy could see the boy's head tilt a little toward the door every now and then, as if he might be looking at the door handle.

Murphy rubbed his hand over his head and face, settling back against the seat. In front of him, 10K shifted his weight and glanced around. Doc stared out the front windshield, unmoving. Beside Murphy, Addy rested against the window, her elbow propped on the air vent and her chin in her hand. The silence in the van was broken only by the sound of the dirt road as it sped beneath the tires, and the uneven terrain that set the passengers bouncing from time to time.

Murphy could see more clearly now than he had before, just how messed up the kid was. After everything that had happened in the mansion, it was clear 10K was fighting an inner battle that rarely showed on the surface. Even though he had healed nicely for two weeks before the infection struck, and he'd had time to spend with the group, especially Doc and Addy, there would be no erasing the events of that day.

During those two weeks of recovery, 10K had mostly pretended that his conversation with Murphy and Doc in the back of the van had never happened. Murphy was fine with that... as far as he was concerned, 10K should never be asked to speak about it again. But Doc had brought it up once, when it had only been him and the kid in the van. According to Doc, he hadn't been able to get an acknowledgment at all, and 10K hadn't spoken much for the rest of the day.

Murphy wanted to be there for the kid. He wanted to provide the kind of support that Doc or Addy could, the way they were able to talk to 10K, and joke with him during the recovery. But he didn't know how to show it, or say it. Without an outlet for his unexpected sense of responsibility, he had resorted to staying within ten feet of 10K whenever he could, even if while doing so he pretended to be otherwise occupied. In this way, he had shown his solidarity, and his willingness to support 10K... well, he very much hoped he had.

But 10K's reaction to learning how his life was saved had been a lot worse than Murphy anticipated. He could see now how deep the hurt went. The boy's distrust of him, for knowing what happened in the collector's mansion, had only grown worse in those weeks. It was clearer to Murphy now... 10K had latched on to Addy and Doc, though Doc knew just as much as Murphy did... but Doc hadn't seen it. He hadn't been there, so 10K trusted him.

A bump in the road caused Murphy to jolt forward slightly, and he readjusted as the others did, rubbing a hand over his face again. He looked at the back of 10K's head once more. Inside, he cursed himself for not having known the right things to do or say, when it had mattered the most. What had he done wrong? What else could he have done or said?

Probably ten thousand things...

"Z's off the starboard bow..." muttered Doc in the front, and the van swerved jerkily as the group of three or four zombies was illuminated by the headlights. After a moment, Warren steered the vehicle back onto the road.

In the front passenger seat, Doc kept his eyes trained on the darkness at the edges of the headlights. He could see the desert passing by, and vaguely registered it, but his mind was elsewhere. For the past two hours he'd been wanting to turn around and check on 10K, hoping the boy would fall asleep, but every time Doc checked the rearview mirror, he could see 10K behind him, eyes wide open. He checked the mirror again, to see if his warning to Warren had disturbed 10K from his rest. But 10K still looked just as on edge as Doc felt.

Doc would have done almost anything for a moment alone with 10K, to talk. The boy hadn't said much of anything to any of the group since he'd found out he was bitten, not even to Addy. But surely he wouldn't really leave... Not when they had gotten this close to California... not after everything they had been through.

In the rearview mirror, 10K's eyes shifted to look back at Doc. It startled the older man, but he let his eyes soften, and tried to give 10K an encouraging smile. 10K's reflection disappeared as the boy moved sideways, turning to look out at the blackness through the window. Doc's smile faded, and he looked away from the mirror with a painful twinge in his chest. Being blocked from the kid in every way, when the poor guy needed the most help... it was almost more than Doc could take.

It seemed like long, endless hours passed before the sun started to rise in the east. The first few rays of gray light brought dim visibility across the landscape, and with it, the atmosphere in the van seemed to relax the slightest bit. Addy fell into a light sleep against the window, and even Doc rested back a little on the head rest. But he didn't close his eyes.

Neither did 10K. As the sun brightened the desert around them, 10K kept his eyes wide open. He watched the skyline ahead of them, waiting for a glimpse of Roswell. For him, the passing hours went by in great leaps, then slowed down gradually, only to leap forward again. He didn't have a good sense of how long he'd been sitting there, or how long he should expect the rest of the trip to take.

In the silence, memories swirled through his mind of the weeks before his fever, after escaping the mansion. Thoughts of how hard it had been to be in close proximity to Murphy. It had stopped mattering as much that Murphy had rescued him from the collector, and it had gotten so difficult to speak to him that 10K had stopped trying altogether. Murphy had been there like a constant reminder, a permanent obstacle that stopped him from forgetting.

During those long days and weeks, logic had told 10K that his thinking was wrong. Guilt had told him he was stupid, for directing his anger at Murphy. But logic and guilt had lessened, replaced by an anger that felt so much better than confusion or fear, though even through the anger, the worry remained.

To be bitten... to be changed into something other than himself... to be controlled, in any way... to have to face Murphy... he couldn't see how he could do it.

His turbulent thoughts took up most of his attention, so he had already been staring at the small town ahead of them for several minutes before he realized they were approaching Roswell. With a quick indrawn breath, 10K sat up straighter, his hand tightening on the butt of his rifle. He stared ahead of them at the town, and his dark thoughts and memories sifted from his mind for the time being. He fully intended to leave the group forever. He would be better off on his own. He cared about these people, he loved them...

But he shouldn't be alive. He wasn't human anymore. He had lost his freedom, and freedom was the one thing he had never thought he would lose, not even to death. And it was the one thing he needed the most.

He didn't know what his new mission was, but he couldn't stay. He had to go.

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	5. Divided

Chapter Five

"Divided"

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When the van rolled to a bumpy stop near the outskirts of Roswell and Warren threw the vehicle into park, 10K pulled open the sliding door without hesitating.

"Hey, kid - wait up," said Doc quickly as 10K jumped out, getting out of the passenger side and coming around the back of the van. "Don't be in such a hurry, where are you running to?"

10K turned around to face Doc. "I'm not running," he answered after a second, "I'm going."

With a pained look in his eyes, Doc reached a hand toward 10K's shoulder, trying to hold him steady. But 10K stepped out of reach, shaking his head. Doc lowered his hand without taking his eyes off 10K's face. Darkness shadowed the boy's eyes, but in them, the smallest glimmer of light could be seen. It sent shivers of deep, unforgettable foreboding throughout Doc's body. "Kid..." he took a step closer, but didn't reach for 10K again. "You're not really running off..."

"Whoa," said Warren loudly, getting out of the van and making her way around the back toward 10K and Doc. Addy followed her, but Murphy remained seated in the back seat. "No one's running off, 10K. We are here for fuel, food, and water - if we're lucky sons of bitches - we're not here to run around." She wasn't normally so sharp, but the long, silent night on the road had worn her nerves to fraying point. 10K glanced at her, but looked back at Doc. He wanted to turn and go... it would be harder for him, to stay and hear them out... but something was stopping him. And it wasn't Murphy this time.

"I'll carry the fuel can this time," said Doc, still searching 10K's face.

But 10K took a couple steps backward, giving his head a small shake. "Take care of yourselves... okay?"

"10K... kid... come on," pleaded Doc, "Don't do something you're only gonna regret - you can't go out there alone, don't you realize?"

"I was alone for three years before I met any of you," said 10K, looking away. "I'll be fine, don't worry about me."

"But what about us?" Asked Warren. "You're turning your back on your mission?"

10K glimpsed Murphy lean forward slightly inside the van, and the anger flared in his chest again as he looked back at Warren. "I told you.. it's not my mission. It's yours."

"Kid... come here," murmured Doc on an exhale, moving forward with his arms outstretched. 10K's body went stiff as Doc pulled him into a tight hug, but he didn't fight it. "You're part of this now," Doc said urgently into the top of 10K's hair. "You don't have to go it alone. You have us... you have me. We won't let you down.."

10K still didn't say anything, or try to break away from the embrace. His eyes flicked to the van window behind Doc's shoulder, and he locked eyes with Murphy for a moment, neither one of them looking away. A strange, unbidden feeling crept up through 10K's chest. It was something he hadn't felt since he woke up, having been bitten. It felt like guilt... but it was more than that. It was something like... gratitude. But no - it wasn't that. It was something else, it had to be...

"Do you hear me, 10K?"

Murphy broke the gaze, turning away to look down at his clasped hands. 10K blinked, still watching him through the glass, until Doc let go of their embrace and grasped him by both shoulders. He held the boy a couple inches away from him, to look at his face. "10K, are you listening?"

"We need you, 10K," said Warren from behind Doc. "Those aren't just words."

10K looked up at Doc, then behind him to Warren. The fire that had burned in his chest was now replaced by a cold balloon of uncertainty. He reached up, pushing Doc's arms away, and stepping back to put a few more feet of distance between himself and the group. He stood for another moment, staring at their speechless, unbelieving expressions. Then he looked away from them and turned, picking up a slow jog across the red packed dirt, with only his rifle. He jogged away from them toward the center of town, leaving the group staring after him as he went.

"10K...?" said Doc in a whisper, as though he was in shock.

"10K! Don't be stupid! 10K!" Shouted Warren, evidently not too concerned about being heard by Z's, but 10K didn't stop. His retreating form gained steady distance, and he passed the first few rows of houses, before he made a right hand turn around a corner and disappeared.

Doc, Addy, and Warren all turned as one, to stare in at Murphy through the glass. Murphy met their gazes, looking bluer and darker than he ever had. "What?" he growled at them through the half-open window.

"Can't you get off your ass and do something?" Demanded Warren, stepping up to the car. "That boy is one nightmare away from becoming zombie chow. He is not in his right mind, he WILL not make it on his own."

Murphy shook his head, not moving. "No," he said grimly, and turned away from them.

"You can't?" Barked Warren.

"I won't," corrected Murphy, watching his clasped hands again. There was accusation in their eyes, and it made Murphy want to wring their necks.

Doc leaned forward against the window, motioning for Murphy to roll it down all the way. After a second of delay, Murphy reached over, obliging. "Murphy," muttered Doc in a quiet tone, "I know why you don't want to use it on him. I know that... but Warren's right. He slipped a bolt, or something... he needs time, and he won't get that, not trying to cross New Mexico on his own..."

"Will you all just shut up?" Growled Murphy, turning away from the window, and putting his head in his hand. He wouldn't do it to the kid again... not after last night. He couldn't. It was the reason 10K took off in the first place, and using it again would only ensure he would need to keep using it on the boy.

Doc turned to look once more in the direction 10K had disappeared. Then he looked back at Murphy, and gestured sharply at him. "Get out of the van. We have some scavenging to do, and if that means we get to keep an eye on the kid, then win-win."

...

...

...

"Usted vio ese coche?" _Did you see that car?_ The speaker had a harsh voice, scratched by years of smoking cigarettes in the dust.

"Sí, claramente como luz del día." _Yeah, clear as daylight_. This speaker sounded younger, probably in his mid thirties, and there were several more of them gathered around a table in a small house at the edge of Roswell. "¿Usted los piensa tiene cualquier cosa valioso?" _Think they have anything valuable?_

 _"_ Sea cual sea él tiene, es más que tenemos." _Whatever they have, it's more than we've got._

There were murmurs of dark agreement among the eight people seated at the table.

Then the first man spoke up again, in heavily accented English. "Then we move fast. Tio... the guns."

...

...

...

Review!


	6. We

Chapter Six

"We"

...

The group hurried to prepare for a few hard hours of scavenging. Warren pulled two empty duffels from the trunk of the van, and three empty fuel cans, which she placed in the dirt. "Doc, grab two of these cans, I'll get the third, and this duffel. Addy? Here's the second duffel, lucky you."

As Doc and Addy loaded up, Warren came around the passenger side to look in at Murphy. "Out," she ordered him bluntly.

"On my way..." grumbled Murphy, standing up and hunching his shoulders to reach the door. He stepped reluctantly out into the morning sun.

Warren took one look at his empty hands, then turned to the rest of the group with a shake of her head. "We need to be careful," she told them, picking up the last fuel can and the second empty duffel. "We don't know these parts, or who's here before us. The usual drill, kids... weapons ready. Let's go."

They turned as a group toward the edge of town, and stopped cold in their tracks.

Several masked, black-clad, rifle-aiming men had materialized from behind rocks on either side of them. "No se mueven! No move!" One of them shouted, brandishing his rifle at them. "Dejen sus armas!"

Warren had frozen in the act of hoisting the empty duffel onto her shoulder, and her other hand moved imperceptibly toward the handle of her gun at her hip.

"He said do not move!" Another man ordered in sharp, accented English. "Drop your weapons to the ground, por favor. Now."

Slowly, Warren looked sideways at Doc, Murphy, and Addy. None of them moved a muscle. Warren turned her eyes back to the men. "We're not here for any trouble," she said loudly, carefully. "We're just here for supplies, and then we're moving out."

The second man to speak gave a harsh laugh. He said something in Spanish to the others, and they all tightened their aim on the group, some of them laughing, too. "You came to our town, to steal and pillage from our homes for your supplies? I think no. I will not ask you again, señora..." he raised his weapon to look through the scope, aiming the rifle at Addy's head. "Weapons on the ground. Now."

With painful slowness, Warren gave the others another sidelong glance, with a short, subtle nod of her head.

Looking apprehensive, each of them drew their weapons, dropping them to the ground, and holding up their hands.

The man snickered behind his mask. "That is better. It was so hard, no? Now... all of you - empty your pockets."

With wary expressions, the four of them did as they were told. A stick of gum and a single dice rolled out of one of Murphy's pockets, landing at his feet, but the rest of them were carrying nothing.

There were murmurs of mocking laughter from the hostiles. Evidently, they had expected more. "You are light travelers," remarked the English-speaking man, surveying the outcome with some disappointment.

"You see?" said Warren calmly, "We don't have anything you want."

The man, who seemed to be acting as a leader, shook his head with a smirk. "I think we make ourselves to be more sure of that, before we... let you go.." His eyes roved down Warren's body, and then slowly back up, before turning on Addy with the same sweeping gaze. "You," said the man, gesturing to Addy. "Step forward. Hand me your bag."

"It's empty," said Addy tensely, but she carefully obliged, stepping forward to hand the empty duffel across the gap.

The man grabbed it from her. "You will shut your mouth unless you would like to lose your tongue." Addy moved back into line with Warren, Doc, and Murphy as the man opened up the bag, turning it upside and shaking it. All that came out were a few bundles of rags, and a cloud of dust. The man made a ticking sound with his tongue between his teeth, shaking his head. He seemed amused. "You did not lie..." He dropped the bag to the ground and kicked it toward Addy's feet. "NEXT!" He shouted, pointing to Warren. "Your bag, por favor... con rapidez."

Warren was about to lower her duffel off her shoulder, but one of the hostiles interrupted her.

"Alejandro..." he said, frowning, dropping his aim a little. He stared at Murphy as he moved sideways to put a hand on his leader's shoulder. "El hombre tiene la piel azul..."

Warren watched them in momentary confusion, which turned hastily to apprehension as she realized who they were looking at.

The rest of the men - Warren had counted six of them - were all looking at Murphy now. They were shifting their stances and tilting their heads, trying to get a better look at him.

"Sí ... su piel es de color azul," said one of them excitedly, "El mismo que El Murphy..."

"Oy," barked Warren, still holding the duffel in one hand and her other hand palm-out, unthreateningly. "What are you jabbering about?"

"Cállate, mujer!" The hostile leader, Alejandro, snapped at Warren. It couldn't have been anything nice, by his tone and inflection. He had turned his attention back to Murphy. "You... step forward, por favor."

Murphy pretended not to notice that Alejandro had addressed him.

The black-clad man came closer, levelling his weapon with Addy's head again. "I said step forward, RÁPIDO!"

Murphy exhaled, and pushed past Addy to approach the hostiles. As he passed, Addy stayed completely still, watching every move of everyone involved with a sharp gaze.

Murphy stepped out in front of the group, reaching up to lower the brim of his hat over his forehead.

"Tu nombre!" One of the hostiles shouted, gesturing roughly with his weapon.

Alejandro held an arm out to quiet his comrade, before turning back to look at Murphy. "What is your name?" He asked, with slow annunciation.

Murphy hesitated for a minute, before letting go of the brim of his hat. "Phil," he said finally, reaching out as though to shake the man's hand. "It's Philip, but I don't let people call me that - Philip is my father - "

"DO NOT MOVE!" Yelled the man, stepping forward and shoving the point of his rifle against Murphy's chest. "Silent!" After a moment, he stepped back, and gestured sharply with his weapon. "Take off your shirt."

Murphy rolled his eyes toward the sky with a groan. "Why is it that everyone who meets me wants to get me out of my clothes?"

"I know I don't..." muttered Warren from behind him.

A crack split the air, and the group lowered themselves, holding their hands a little higher. Alejandro had fired into the ground. "Take off your shirt!" He yelled at Murphy, apparently lacking any further patience.

Murphy growled, straightening back up and beginning to unbutton his shirt. He pulled both corners of the fabric aside, exposing the front of his upper torso to the hostiles. His scars were out in the open now, for all of them to see.

There were gasps and mutters among the hostiles as they beheld him. Alejandro, the only one to have spoken fluent English so far, seemed so awed by what he saw that he slowly pulled the scarf off his face, letting it fall around his neck. "You are... El Murphy," he said, looking up to Murphy's face again.

Murphy glared at him, letting the sides of his shirt fall back down. "Satisfied? Can I get dressed now, or did you want more of a show?"

The leader of the hostiles kept his rifle trained on Addy, and the others kept theirs aimed at Doc and Warren, as they drew closer together and started to converse in rapid Spanish.

Murphy slowly stepped backward toward Warren and the others, who stepped forward around him, their hands still in the air.

"You're not taking Murphy away from us," said Warren loudly to the hostiles, trying to be heard over their loud voices. "He's our prisoner. We brought him all the way from New York, and others before you have tried to take him!" But none of them acknowledged her, continuing to talk excitedly among themselves.

Taking advantage of their preoccupation, Warren inched her foot sideways, until her boot covered one of the knives Doc had dropped. Her gun was several feet away, too far to reach without being noticed. Slowly, she dragged the knife across the dirt toward her, keeping it hidden beneath her boot.

Doc saw her movement out of the corner of his eye, and he pressed sideways into Addy's shoulder. She looked at him, and he glanced pointedly down at their guns. She followed his line of sight. There was something hard and determined gleaming in her expression as she got the message, and looked back up. Giving a subtle nod of her chin, she turned away, and leaned slightly forward to press against Murphy from behind.

Murphy had finished buttoning his shirt, and he looked over his shoulder when he felt Addy behind him.

"On Warren's mark," whispered Addy, barely breathing, and she drew back. Murphy faced front again, his eyes flickering down to his nearby pistol, and then back up. Without looking away from the hostiles again, he gave a short nod.

...

...

...


	7. Fall

Chapter Seven

"Fall"

...

10K moved through the outskirts of Roswell at a slow jog, keeping close to the sides of buildings, away from the open road. Many of the buildings hadn't survived the years, and still many more were crumbling dangerously, on the brink of collapse. 10K didn't want to wonder about what had gone on here since the start of the outbreak. He stepped over a pile of cinderblocks and rubble, gripping his rifle tightly across his front.

Ahead, he spotted a row of buildings with dusty glass fronts, that looked like long-abandoned stores of some kind. He would need food and water before he could leave. Once he found some, he would head north. After that, he didn't know.

Crouching lower to the ground, he ran across the open road, flattening against the opposite row of stores and looking around him. A hundred yards away, two zombies stumbled aimlessly about, not having noticed his presence. Good, he thought to himself, with a flare of pride for his stealth. Turning, he shielded a hand against one of the windows, looking in.

As far as he could tell, the interior was a mess of jumbled wreckage. Shelves tossed across each other, broken glass covering the floor; looters had been here. Probably years ago.

He moved around to the door anyway, and as silently as he could, he pulled it open. The hinges squeaked and he stopped quickly, looking over at the zombies. They had heard the sound, and were staring slowly around for its source. He quickly wrenched the door open and slipped inside, closing it behind him.

Once inside, he could clearly see he wouldn't get lucky here. He kicked aside a few shelves, picking up an empty box and reading the cover. There was a small green alien on it, advertising some kind of toy, and 10K looked back up, skeptical now. There would have been no food here... it had been some kind of tourist trap.

He glanced around for a second more, before turning back to the door. The zombies outside had stumbled toward the store, and were now pressing up against the glass. Their gray fingers clawed at the window in the door, and they pushed their faces up against it, growling and hissing.

10K pulled his slingshot from his belt, and fitted a sharp stone into it. Without hesitating, he strode forward and pushed the door open, kicking it so it would swing all the way. He backed up as the zombies tripped in, their growls intensifying as they laid eyes on him. With a practiced movement, he swung the slingshot into place and the stone went flying, striking through one of their skulls. 10K had another rock from his pouch in the sling before the first zombie had hit the floor, and he was slinging his next shot. This one pierced through the second zombie's head, and the infected fell limply, its snarls ceasing.

"Two thousand eight hundred forty-one... forty-two," muttered 10K, pushing his sling back into his belt. He stepped over the dead Z's and turned the corner, looking into the window of the next store.

This one appeared to offer more hope. 10K could see rows of shelves inside that were still standing, and still held a few items on them, under thick layers of dust. He glanced behind him again, before entering quietly.

This had been some kind of pharmacy, or convenience store. 10K rifled through the useless items on the shelves, making his way toward the back of the store. The ceiling opened up, but the light from outside was unable to completely reach the back portion of the building. In the semi-darkness ahead, 10K could see what must have been a grocery section. Looted aisles, freezer doors hanging loose on their hinges... he pushed forward into the darker lit section of the store, keeping his rifle at the ready.

Most of what he could see inside the freezers and on the back wall were empty boxes and torn up wrappers. He used the barrel of his gun to search through the trash, flipping stained cardboard and fraying plastic bags aside.

There was no food. Not even an old, rotted TV dinner. 10K felt his hopes dwindling about finding anything in this town... He straightened up and turned to leave.

Suddenly, the brighter light from the front of the store was blocked by something. 10K felt his heart skip a beat, and he raised his rifle, aiming at whatever had moved. As his eyes adjusted, he could make out three figures standing in the hallway, looking in at him. With their positioning, they were blocking the only exit from the store that 10K knew of.

He stood as still as statue, his rifle trained on them. He couldn't be sure if they'd seen him...

"No se mueven!" One of them barked into the shadows.

10K cursed inwardly, his hands tightening on his rifle. Spanish speakers... talking himself out of trouble with these people might be difficult... he still didn't move an inch.

"Weapon en el suelo!" the same man barked an order, waving his gun toward 10K.

10K didn't drop his weapon, though he had recognized the only English word in the sentence. "I didn't know there was anyone in this town," he said carefully, trying to keep his voice even. "I don't want trouble, I only need food and water."

"Bien, food, water. Puso su arma - weapon - " the man gestured sharply with his weapon again, "- en el suelo." He pointed to the floor. The meaning was undeniable. "Y luego hablamos!"

10K knew what he was being told to do, but he couldn't lower his weapon. Never lower your weapon... not unless there's no other choice. 10K wondered briefly if that was the situation in which he had now found himself... "I don't speak Spanish." His finger rested beside his trigger. "Do you speak English?"

The three of them seemed to be getting impatient as the moments passed, and 10K stilled hadn't lowered his rife. One of them stepped closer, down the slight ramp toward the darkened frozen food section. "En la muerte es no importa qué idioma hablamos!" He advanced further down the ramp, gesticulating aggressively with his rifle. "¿Quieres morir?"

"I don't want trouble," said 10K in a louder voice, "Let me pass, no one has to get shot!"

"Él quiere morir," growled one of the others. The man flanked the first one on the narrow ramp. "Vamos a darle lo que quiere!"

"No!" the third man cut in, putting a hand on the first man's shoulder. "No lo matara. Vamos a llevarlo a Alejandro..."

There was a moment of indecision between the three men, and the first man seemed to consider whatever his comrade has said. With scrutinizing eyes, he looked into the darkness at 10K. "You -" he barked, gesturing sharply with his weapon again. "You...will.. deje caer su arma. Put down, put down." Indicating the floor again. "And you are...come with.." he makes a sweeping gesture to include the other two men. "Come with us."

10K slowly shook his head. "No... no, I'm not going anywhere with anyone," he growled, his cheek flat against his rifle as he aimed.

Another moment of inaction weighed down them in the darkened, abandoned grocery section. Then the man giving the orders, the one with long, black hair tied back in a skinny ponytail, glanced somewhere to the right of 10K in the dark. "Hacerlo, Juan!"

10K had lifted his head to turn in that direction, when another stranger materialized out of the darkness, flying toward 10K. There was only enough time for 10K to try and swing his rifle around, but the man was already on him. The stranger bowled him over like a rag doll, landing on top of his back and sending his rifle skittering into a pile of empty boxes against the wall.

10K struck his head rather hard on the floor when he landed, and he tried to blink popping red lights from his eyes, trying to struggle out from under the hostile. He yelled at them incoherently, struggling for all his worth, trying to hook a knee underneath himself to hoist off the floor, but his assailant pushed down on him harder. Both his arms were wrenched behind his back. It was not the right time for unwanted memories to be swirling into the forefront of 10K's mind... he pushed them back, but he could see the collector's face... too close to his own, and he could smell his breath. He could feel the coldness of his hand when he reached down... No, no... no, don't think about it... 10K let out a snarling shout, partly to stop the memory in its tracks, and partly because the man on top of him had begun tying his arms at the wrists with a length of cord.

The other three had come down the ramp into the frozen food section now, and they surrounded 10K and his assailant, they're weapons lowering to their sides.

"Get off - " growled 10K in a rage, as another of them sat on his legs, and started to tie his ankles together. "I don't have anything you need!"

But they only raised themselves off of him after his wrists and ankles were firmly secured. They didn't give him a moment to breathe before one of the men grabbed him painfully around his upper arm, hoisting him off the floor. On bound legs he almost tripped and fell forward, but the other two encircled him again, pushing him roughly upright.

It was the pony-tailed man who stood in front of 10K now. One of them grabbed a fistful of 10K's shirt to keep him still, another holding him by the arm on the other side.

"We go!" Ordered the man, and 10K was pulled forward. He didn't have much of a choice as he was hauled up the ramp toward the front of the store. With a backward look over his shoulder, he tried to see where his rifle had been left, but it was too dark in the shadows.

"Vamos a ver lo que Alejandro quiere hacer con usted," murmured the man. _We will see what Alejandro will do with you._

 _..._

 _..._

 _..._


	8. The Hostiles

**Em: Thank you so much for you support of my story! Your reviews make me very happy, and inspire me to churn the chapters out faster ;)**

...

Chapter Eight

"The Hostiles"

...

The three hostiles shoved 10K headfirst into a black van, and he landed between the first and second rows of seats, on the floor. One of them jumped in behind him and sat down, shoving a boot against the boy's chest to keep him down, while the other two climbed into the front. As the engine sputtered to life and the van began to move, 10K could do nothing but lie still.

After a few minutes of bumpy road, his arms started to go numb underneath him, and he tried to wiggle his fingers, tried to keep the blood flowing.

It wasn't long before the van made a sharp left, and slowed to a stop. The men in the front got out and one of them opened the sliding door, so the third man could exit. The boot lifted from 10K's chest and he raised himself into a sitting position with some difficulty, staring out at them. "What do you want?" He asked desperately, not for the first time. "Where are we?"

"Cállate, niño," said the pony-tailed man sharply, reaching in and gripping 10K by the upper arm to drag him out. "You will come."

10K pulled angrily against the man's grip, trying to resist, but a moment later, the cord around his ankles had been hastily cut, and he was being pulled toward the nearest building. 10K found himself tripping and sliding along in the man's wake. But as the four of them approached the small door above a set of cement stairs, the door swung open, and someone rushed out. It was another of the hostiles, judging by his appearance, and he looked excited about something. The hostiles holding 10K brought him to an abrupt stop, and two of them walked forward as their man came down to meet them. "¿Qué pasa, Juan?" Demanded the pony-tailed man.

"Tenemos el Murphy," said the shorter man excitedly.

"¿Quién es el Murphy?"

"El Murphy! Piel azul, las cicatrices de los mordedores... él puede controlar los mordedores!"

10K was staring between them, his eyes wide. After hearing Murphy's name, a pit formed in his stomach, and his chest felt cold. No... no... these people had gotten the rest of the group, too?

"Where are they?" Asked 10K suddenly, his eyes fixing on the short man. "Where's the group?"

One of the men near him drew back a hand and hit 10K hard across his temple, causing his knees to buckle, but the hostiles kept him standing. A warm trail of blood trickled past his eye, as the pony-tailed man raised his hand again in a clear threat. "You - niño, you are... you are with group?"

10K shook his head slowly, a steady throb beginning in the side of his head. "Just... tell me where they are," he said tightly, blinking. He gave his head a firm shake to clear it.

"You... tell ME," argued the pony-tailed man. "You are with the Murphy?"

"No," growled 10K weakly, shaking his head again. "I don't know Murphy..."

The man did not look pleased. He looked up to the fourth man, who still hovered on the bottom step. "¿Dónde está Alejandro?"

"La casa."

"Lo vamos a aportar al grupo." The pony-tailed man turned to stare hard at 10K. "Then we see do you know, or do you not know."

"Vamos," the man holding the back of 10K's shirt growled, and pushed him forward toward the stairs. 10K felt the cold steel of a gun barrel pressing between his shoulder blades, and he picked up his feet to climb the stairs slowly, with two of them in front of him and two at his back.

The small door opened into a surprisingly large hallway, with doors on both sides. A stairwell with a railing led upward on their right, and they passed it, moving toward the end of the hall, where a door stood open. 10K was pushed roughly over the threshold, and his eyes fell on a wide kitchen. There were cans of food and jugs of water lined up on the counter, and there were six men sitting at a table.

One of them stood up when they entered, and he gave his comrades a broad grin, before he focused on 10K. "¿Otro?"

"Si, Alejandro," answered the pony-tailed man. "Dice que no conoce El Murphy."

The man called Alejandro looked closely at 10K, stepping closer. "So, you do not know the Murphy?" He asked in a smooth, accented voice.

10K didn't move, except for a slow shake of his head.

Alejandro let out a mirthless chuckle. "If you do not know him, why did you come here with him?"

10K shook his head again, futilely. He couldn't see where his lies were getting him. "I didn't..." he insisted none-the-less, "I'm alone. I came here alone.."

The pony-tailed man made a disbelieving sound through his nose. "Creo que se ha quedado," he muttered to Alejandro.

"Si... I think so, also," replied Alejandro coolly. "Let him go with them into the cellar. If he did not know them before, he will know them by the end." There was a dangerous glint of sadistic amusement in the man's eye as he stared at 10K, who had a feeling the man had spoken the order in English to try to scare him. "Strip him. Put him with the others. Pigs do not wear clothes to the slaughterhouse..."

10K's eyes widened when he heard that, and his mouth opened as though to protest, but in his surprise, he could only stutter, "Wh - what? N-no, why would you -? Don't do -"

But one of the men had grabbed a knife, and was starting to saw-cut swiftly up the back of 10K's shirt.

"No!" Growled 10K, bending and twisting, but the knife sliced through the fabric with ease, and the short sleeves were being torn from around his arm bindings. When the man's hands went for the hem of 10K's pants, he went into frantic mode. With a yell, he struck backward with his heel toward the hostile behind him, and felt his foot connect solidly with a shin. The hostile gave a grunt of pain as 10K kicked again, and he ripped a nightstick from his belt, striking the boy hard in the back of the head.

10K collapsed, his yells choking off into silence. His body seized up for a moment, a result of the concussion, and then he went limp, his eyes halfway closed.

...

...

...

In the cellar of the New Mexican house, Warren, Addy, Doc, and Murphy sat together, lined up in a straight row. They were all naked except for their undergarments, and their hands were tightly tied behind their backs, secured to an old radiator pipe to prevent any movement.

From somewhere above, there came a burst of shouts, which was suddenly cut off.

"Did you hear that?" Hissed Addy, looking at the ceiling.

"10K...?" Murmured Doc in alarm, looking up as well.

The four of them waited in the silence that followed with baited breath.

After a minute of quiet, Doc tried to shift onto his knees. "Aw, kid... don't let it be you..."

"Murphy, is it 10K?" Demanded Warren.

Murphy looked over at her, his eyebrows drawn into a solid line of anger and worry across his forehead. "I don't know," he said heatedly, and his voice sounded as though it might break from strain.

Doc turned to Murphy, "Well can't you - I don't know, can't you sense him, or something? That mind control thing - "

"I'm not psychic," snapped Murphy. "That part only works with the zombies." But he didn't sound happy about it, and his dark-lidded eyes flicked up to fix on the ceiling.

A few minutes later, the sound of footsteps on the cellar stairs reached their ears. It was more than one person... and there was a strange thudding that accompanied them.

"Everyone shut your mouths," muttered Warren unnecessarily, as the footsteps neared the bottom of the stairs, followed by the sound of a key scraping in a lock. The cellar door swung open, and Alejandro stepped into the basement. He surveyed the captive group with gleaming eyes.

Warren squared her shoulders toward him as best she could. "You're risking the fate of all of humanity by keeping us here," she told him fiercely.

Alejandro's eyes fell on her, but he didn't seem very interested in her warning. "You should not have stood for all of humanity, if you cannot handle the burden," he answered, his accent smooth and silky on his unconcerned tone. "You do not need to worry about it any longer. The Murphy is our burden now. Vamos," he barked over his shoulder, standing aside from the door. "Bring him in."

Behind him, two men came down the last few stairs. Between them, they dragged 10K's lifeless body, each gripping under one of his bound arms. They had removed all of his clothing except for his boxer shorts, just as they had done with the others, and 10K's head hung limply on his chest.

"10K!" Gasped Doc, and he started pulling on the radiator pipe. He wasn't the only one; Addy, Warren, and Murphy were suddenly pulling, too. "What did you do to him?!"

"He will wake," purred Alejandro. He exchanged a knowing glance with one of the men holding 10K, before turning back to look at the group. "He said he did not know you. We believed he was lying. It seems that we were correct..."

10K was flung to the ground, where he rolled to a stop on his back, lying across his own arms. His head rolled, and his eyes started to flicker open. He drew in a few sharp breaths.

"Oh, 10K..." whispered Addy, staring fearfully at her friend as she leaned with all her might against her bindings.

"It's okay, kid, it's gonna be okay," murmured Doc anxiously. 10K had fallen nearest to him, and he tried to inch closer to the boy. But the ropes didn't allow him to get close enough.

"Get him tied up like the others, and bring El Murphy upstairs," ordered Alejandro. One of the men gripped 10K by the upper arm and hoisted him up to his knees. Then he was pushed roughly back toward the wall, near Murphy's end, and a longer cord was being looped through the cords already binding his wrists. But the hostiles paused in the act of tying him to the pipe.

"Tio, espere... que es...?"

The men let go of 10K, and his upper body started to fall forward, but he was quickly shoved upright again. One of them grabbed him by the jaw, forcing his head back down onto his chest.

There were murmurings of uncertainty as the hostiles stared at the back of 10K's neck. After a moment, Alejandro pushed 10K's hair out of the way to see the bite mark more clearly.

"Él es mordido, pero no es un mordedor!"

"Cállate..." said Alejandro, letting go of 10K's hair and standing up straight once more. Slowly, he turned his eyes to Murphy, drawing his gun.

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	9. El Niño

Chapter Nine

"El Niño"

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"He's not a zombie!" Yelled Warren, pulling violently against her bindings. "He wasn't bitten by a Z!"

Alejandro had his gun pressed up against the side of 10K's head, glaring at the rest of the group as he demanded an explanation. "He is not un mordedor, this much we already know! Why is he bitten?"

"¡Dinos!" Shouted another of them, also with his gun drawn, aiming down at the mostly unconscious 10K.

"Nos dice, o que te maten!"

"You have until I count to three," said Alejandro cruelly, cutting across the other hostiles. "Explain to me what the mark is, and I will let you all live until tonight."

Murphy sat rigidly at the end of the radiator pipe, near 10K. His eyes bored furious holes into the side of Alejandro's head, and when Alejandro shoved his gun more roughly against 10K's temple, he let out a zombie-like snarl from between his teeth. "Leave him be!"

"Uno..." counted Alejandro, twisting the barrel of the gun into the side of 10K's head. His eyes moved to Murphy. "Dos..."

"Stop," said Murphy sharply. "He wasn't bitten by a zombie. She's not lying."

"Tell me!" Yelled Alejandro, completely losing his temper. He bent down, grabbing 10K around the shoulders and yanking him away from the wall, crouching behind him with his gun pressing up against the underside of 10K's chin. "Why is he bitten?"

"I BIT HIM!" Murphy shouted back, and between all the captives, there was such a strain on the radiator pipe that it had begun to bend outward.

Alejandro stopped his movements, leaving one of his arms wrapped around 10K's chest from behind. He stared at Murphy, clearly trying to decide whether or not to believe him. "¿Por qué? Why would you do this?"

"For shits and giggles," hissed Murphy. "Now let him go! Or tie him up! Pick one!"

One of the other men crouched down beside his leader, pushing up 10K's hair to have another look at the bite. "Alejandro... dicen que se puede controlar a la gente que muerde."

"Si, Alejandro, eso es lo que he oído," agreed another of them.

Murphy looked from the hostiles back to Alejandro and 10K, with another hard struggle against the pipe.

When Alejandro turned to look at Murphy again, the gleam had started to return to his eyes. "El Murphy... you control this boy?"

Now, the group went quiet, and they stopped struggling to pull on the radiator pipe.

Murphy watched 10K's face, without looking away. _Don't worry, kid..._

"Answer me, idiota! I will kill him!"

Murphy tore his eyes from 10K to look back at Alejandro, and the hatred that sparked in his gaze took even their captors by surprise. "I bit him to save his life," he ground out. He didn't care anymore about keeping these things a secret from the hostiles, not while 10K's life hung over the line. "He was dying. I don't control him."

A slow, dangerous smile spread across Alejandro's face, and he lowered his gun half an inch. "But it is true. You _can_ control him, if you choose to, can you not? This is what they say about you, mi amigo... A bite from you will save a life, and turn the bitten into your own slave. This is true?"

Murphy shook his head from side to side. "No, not a slave..."

But none of the hostiles seemed to be listening to him. Alejandro let out a mocking laugh, pulling 10K's head back against his shoulder by the hair. "So, este niño is bitten by an infected. The bite saves his life. And it makes este niño your... how do you say...? He is your bitch, no?" He shook 10K's head lightly by the hair, reaching up to pat his cheek with his other hand. 10K started to wake up more. His eyelids flickered, and he opened his mouth to breathe. Alejandro saw this, and he released his grip on the back of 10K's hair, causing his head to drop back down. The boy's breath quickened and his eyes opened a little further... he tried to raise his head, but Alejandro slapped his face, causing his muscles to start shaking. Soon his whole body was trembling, like aftershocks from the concussive blow from the nightstick.

"Tie him up," growled Murphy in a low tone of repressed rage, his hands clenched into tight fists behind him. "Or let him go. One... Or... The other."

Alejandro laughed again, his arm tightening around 10K. "This is too good, I am very sorry, El Murphy... lo siento, you must believe me." But he didn't look at all sorry; in fact, his expression looked downright thrilled.

10K listened to their words blankly, simply struggling to stay on his knees. His head felt like it weighed ten thousand pounds, and sharp pains lanced through his skull like knives. _I've died,_ he thought, unfocused.

"You are awake..." said Alejandro quietly from behind him. 10K tried to lean away from the sound of his voice, but Alejandro tightened his arm further, pulling him flat against his chest. "We have some things to speak about, the three of us... we will feast on the others, but you y El Murphy... you will make us very.. very much money, niño."

Alejandro let go of 10K abruptly, standing up, and it was all 10K could do to keep from falling forward.

"10K? Kid, can you hear me?" That was Doc's voice.

"It's okay, 10K, we'll get out of here," whispered Warren urgently, "Breathe normally, breathe slow."

10K tried to focus on them, and understand their words. But his thoughts were slow and blurred, like his vision, and his lids were heavy as he tried to blink away the sharp, resounding pain in his head. He felt so... so tired...

"Get up," ordered Alejandro in a commanding voice.

10K didn't move, except to shakily part his knees a little on the floor for better balance, leaning further forward. He couldn't hold his muscles still... nausea started to creep up into his throat. He tried to even out his breathing, and as he did, he was surprised to find some of his shakiness abating, and he could sit up a little straighter. He tried to find Warren in the blur, finally focusing his eyes on her. "Warren - I'm sorry," he breathed hoarsely.

"No, 10K, no," rebutted Warren immediately, shaking her head. "Don't think about that."

Alejandro slowly approached 10K from behind, and hit him lightly on the back of the head with his hand. "I tell you to stand up, niño estupido..."

"Leave him alone!" Yelled Doc, while Murphy growled indiscernible swears. The radiator pipe was under so much strain that it creaked and bowed under the weight of their combined strength.

Alejandro expelled a loud, impatient sound. "Have you reunited? It is good enough? GOOD! Tio, get El Murphy on his feet. Recoger El Murphy...I will bring this one."

"Wait... wait, where are you taking them?!" Demanded Doc sharply.

Alejandro was already bending over above 10K, grabbing him by the arms and lifting him to his feet. It wasn't very hard for him, despite the fact that 10K was still mostly limp. He spun 10K around to face him, holding him by his shoulders now. The hostile scrutinized the boy for a long moment, and 10K looked back at him, trying to find his feet on the floor. His head gave a sharp throb, and his exhaustion was blanketing all his senses, slowing his thoughts... his heart pounded fast in his chest, and his blood rushed in his ears...

Then, Alejandro threw 10K over his shoulder, reaching up to pull his arm across the opposite side. "I have never met a living mordedor before... or his bitch," he remarked calmly, moving toward the door.

Ignoring the furious shouts they were leaving behind, the men hauled their prisoners back up the stairs at gunpoint. Murphy didn't resist. He climbed the cellar steps willingly, trying to keep an eye on 10K as they ascended. The boy had gone still again, possibly lost consciousness, over Alejandro's shoulder. All Murphy could do was follow, trying to stay near.

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	10. Gamblin' Man

**WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS PROFANITY AND SEXUAL REFERENCES.**

Chapter Ten

"Gamblin' Man"

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10K awoke as his legs were being bound tightly to the legs of a dining room chair. With a groan, he tried to lift up his head and look around. They were in the dining room, where he had been taken when they first arrived here, and across the table from him, Murphy was being similarly bound to a chair.

"You okay, kid?" Asked Murphy quietly, as soon as he saw 10K wake up.

10K nodded slowly. Strangely, he felt better than okay... the pain in his head was mostly gone, and the blurriness in his thoughts and vision had cleared and sharpened. A crease appeared between his brows... Why did he feel almost fully healed...?

His eyes darted across the surface of the table as something occurred to him.

The bite...

The bite must be responsible for his quick recovery... that had been a serious head injury. He had been sure his skull was cracked... but now, almost nothing. No pain...

He didn't want to think about it... he didn't know what to think, so he gave his head a little shake, and looked up at the hostiles. "What are we doing here?" He demanded hoarsely.

They were standing close together, four of them, speaking to each other in Spanish. When they heard him, they all turned to look at him, and Alejandro faced the table as well. He seemed to study 10K closely for a moment, and a smirk started to spread across his face. "Good morning, niño..." he murmured in his sharply accented drawl, "You are feeling much better?" He came to the table and spun one of the chairs around, sitting down on it backward, resting his arms across the top rail. He looked back and forth between the two of them, before settling his gaze on Murphy, still with a faint smirk. "We are very fortunate, yes? More fortunate than anyone else on this earth, I might say..."

"Don't count your money while you're sitting at the table," warned Murphy, staring down their captor. "You'll probably lose it all, when the dealing's done."

Alejandro let out a short laugh. "I am not a gambling man, señor Murphy."

Murphy surveyed Alejandro coldly, and his brows came together in a frown. "Yes you are, Al... You're gambling right now."

Alejandro stared back at Murphy for a moment. After another minute's tense hesitation, he straightened up, and gestured for his comrades to take their leave. He held out an arm to stop one of them, and they all turned to listen. "No tienen su manera con las mujeres hasta más tarde esta noche, antes de que ellos y fiesta cocinar." The man sounded stern.

The hostiles looked disappointed by whatever Alejandro had said, none of which Murphy or 10K had understood, but they nodded and left the room, closing the door behind them.

Alejandro turned to face the table again, folding his arms over the back of the seat once more. He returned his attention to Murphy. "You y el niño are very lucky, señor," he remarked, with a smile that made 10K's neck prickle.

"Yeah? How's that?" Murphy demanded, with a sharp, angry laugh..

Alejandro clasped his hands. When he spoke, his voice was smooth and dangerous. "You will not have to suffer the same fate as your companions."

10K felt a flare of anger. He stood halfway, fighting against the ropes binding his legs to the chair, which screeched across the wooden floor when he moved. "What are you doing with them?" He ground out, struggling against the ropes.

Alejandro turned from Murphy to look at 10K. He raised himself up and walked around the corner of the table, drawing his gun. 10K stiffened, watching the barrel of the gun until it pushed roughly against his chest. "Sit down."

10K was pushed back into the chair, so he sat, without looking away from the hostile. Alejandro slowly removed the gun from his chest, but didn't holster it.

"What are you going to do with them?" growled 10K again, staying in his seat this time.

Alejandro moved around the table, and sat backwards on his own chair again. He turned his steady gaze back to 10K. "What will we do with them? They will be fucked," he replied coolly, folding his hands on the table over the back of the chair without looking away from 10K. "That is what you call it, no? They will be fucked. All of them, as many times as any of us desire."

10K's jaw clenched, and his heartbeat quickened, a swell of nausea creeping up his throat. He fought the urge to look at Murphy, but his eyes flickered away from Alejandro, to the floor, the top of the table... he tried to force down his reaction so it wouldn't show on his face, but he knew he wasn't succeeding.

"Bad idea, Al," snarled Murphy from where he sat, "You don't know what these people are capable of, each and every one of you will be castrated before you can even- - "

"They will be fucked up, down, and sideways. The will be fucked into the floor, into the walls, into their own graves," continued Alejandro loudly, cutting across Murphy's furious threat. "Because when we have had all the fun we want, their throats will be cut from ear to ear. They will be drained, skinned, and quartered... and put over the fire to roast, mi pequeño amigo."

10K slowly shook his head, fighting down the nausea. He couldn't look at Murphy... he was suddenly very aware of his body, and everything else in the room, as Alejandro's words sunk in. His skin started prickling and tingling as images of the collector's face came to mind. At that very moment, in his sudden silent panic, 10K would have preferred being tormented by the Collector again.

The hostile made a condescending clicking noise with his tongue, taking his eyes off 10K's face. He lay his gun flat on the surface of the table, and idly spun it around a few times, before bringing it to a stop with the barrel pointed toward Murphy. "We are going to get to the bottom of this, before tonight's festivities," the hostile informed them, sounding dangerously impatient. "I must know exactly what your abilities are, señor Murphy. I must know precisely how it is that you control those you have bitten." He slowly spun the barrel of the gun to point at 10K. "You are going to show me."

10K finally forced himself to glance over at Murphy, his heart hammering so loudly in his chest he was sure the other two could hear it. Murphy met his eyes when he saw him look, and gave a short, subtle shake of his head. A reassurance... but 10K wasn't reassured. He had a deep, sinking rush of foreboding in his chest, worse even than when he'd learned he had been bitten.

Murphy turned icy eyes on their captor. "You really are a gamblin' man..."

"I am a man who knows what he wants," Alejandro corrected him, unclasping his hands and standing back up. "Now... I do not want you to get any ideas. Do not try to escape from here." He picked up his gun from the table and walked over to the door, his cowboy boots clicking dully on the floor. Pulling open the door, he stood aside so that Murphy and 10K could see the backs of two of the hostiles standing guard, rifles ready. Both the hostiles turned to look at their leader when the door was opened, but Alejandro ignored them, shutting the door again. "You see?" He said to his captives, slowly walking back to the table, but not taking his seat. "If you try to escape, you will be shot. Not fatally, of course... if you are even able to die... you will be shot in the leg, or the foot, or both... whatever we must do to secure you. Do you understand?"

"I understand you're nuts," said Murphy in a grating tone, giving another struggle against the ropes.

10K didn't speak. He watched the hostile's every move, his eyes wider than he wanted them to be as he waited in uncertain silence.

Alejandro holstered his gun, drawing a knife out of his belt with his other hand. Before 10K could react, Alejandro strode to him and knelt in one fluid movement, slicing the knife up through the ropes restraining 10K's legs. The ropes fell to the floor, severed, and Alejandro straightened, pressing the tip of the knife against 10K's front. 10K, who had made to jump to his feet, fell slowly back into the chair at the point of the knife.

"Whoa..." said Alejandro softly, shaking his head. "Not yet, niño tonto.." He made a gesture with the knife, "Lean forward."

10K didn't move. He remained stock still, staring at Alejandro. More chills of panic ran up and down his spine.

After a few seconds, Alejandro rolled his eyes. "Everything will take so long?" He complained. The next second, he had reached forward in a flash to grip 10K by the back of his hair. With his other hand, Alejandro had brought his blade up to press against the front of 10K's throat, under his chin.

The boy inhaled sharply, taken aback.

"Don't!" Yelled Murphy furiously, "I'm the one who knows the answers, not the kid!"

Alejandro paused to look over at Murphy, stil gripping 10K by the hair. 10K could feel the blade slicing lightly against his skin under his jaw. A warm trickle of blood ran from his neck down his chest, staining his dark gray boxers. Alejandro let up on the knife a little, but continued to press it against 10K's throat as he stared at Murphy. "So you admit that you do know the answers," he remarked, another smirk curling his lips.

"Look, whatever I know, its more than the kid knows, so let him be," growled Murphy. "Your business is with me."

Alejandro watched him closely for another few seconds. "Sí, señor... it is. I will get every answer from you, and if I do not get the answers before the feast tonight, I will stop your delivery to California until I get them. You must believe me, señor Murphy... that is not something that you want me to do. Either of you... Now, hold STILL."

Alejandro forced 10K's head down between his knees, eliciting a gasp of surprise from the boy as he was roughly pushed down. Alejandro's elbow dug into his back, preventing him from moving. 10K pushed his bare feet against whatever he could; he connected solidly with something, but his feet slid past Alejandro's legs, and he scrabbled for another foothold.

But then to his surprise, he was able to pull his arms free from behind his back; Alejandro had cut the ropes. Instinctively, be brought his hands forward and tried to grab onto Alejandro's pant legs, the only part of him he could see, but his fingers were asleep. All he could do was push against the man's legs, his torso pinned forward, caught between the arms of the chair and the hostile's significant bulk.

"Stop," commanded Alejandro from somewhere above him. "Do not make this harder than it must already be."

10K felt Alejandro's weight release him, and he hastened to sit up, jumping out of his chair with unbound arms and feet. He leaped for the corner, spinning around to face Alejandro with his hands wielded in front of him, ready to fight... they were his only weapons.

But Alejandro laughed cruelly, taking a few steps back, and raising his own hands in mock defeat. "I surrender," he said calmly, putting his knife down on the table as he looked to Murphy. "Can you believe? Este niño is very fast, no?"

"Hell of a lot faster than you sons o' bitches," snarled Murphy. The arms of his chair were starting the groan and pop, getting ready to break.

Alejandro drew his gun from his holster once more, aiming it at Murphy. "You break the furniture, I'll use the splinters to carve a tattoo on your dick. But... I think that's the least of your problems, señor." He swung the gun around to aim at 10K. "You will make este niño walk to me. You will make him take off my belt from my pants, and give it to me."

Murphy stared at Alejandro, caught off guard. "What?" He growled after a prolonged moment of silence.

Alejandro cocked his pistol. "You heard what I said, mancha de mierda... do it. Now."

10K stared between Murphy and Alejandro, his hands still held out in front of him, light on his feet and ready to dodge or jump. At the hostile's words, his chest turned even colder and his heart plummeted into his stomach. He heard Murphy refuse the order, and then refuse it again, in many more colorful words... But Alejandro clicked his tongue, lowering his gun a few feet. Without any further warning, a gunshot ripped through the air, and the bullet sang into the wall beside 10K. Instinctually, he leaped sideways, covering his face with his arm to try and avoid bits of flying drywall.

The leap sent him tumbling into the kitchen counter, knocking several cans of food off as he tripped over a folded carpet. He scrambled to get back to his feet, grasping one of the food cans from the floor as he did, and whirled around, drawing back his arm to aim and throw. He let the can fly, aiming true, but Alejandro was able to duck to one side of it just in time. The can narrowly missed Murphy at the table, and crashed through the kitchen window, shattering a large hole in the glass.

Alejandro straightened up and made a dash toward 10K. 10K tried to dive sideways, but Alejandro caught him with an arm around his middle, and threw him backward away from the counter. Lunging after him, the hostile threw a punch at 10K's face, but the boy dodged it, twisting sideways in another attempt at getting loose. Alejandro caught him by the arm this time, forcing him around, and bending him over the table, slamming his head down against it. With one hand, Alejandro dug a knife into 10K's side, and with the other, he pushed down against the back of the boy's neck. 10K bent his knees, trying to kick, and his hands scrabbled on the surface of the table, but Alejandro bent over him from behind, delivering a sharp shove against his neck. "Se muda pequeña perra!" He hissed into 10K's ear, resting his body over 10K's much smaller frame.

"¿Está todo bien?" The guards had opened the door at the sound of breaking glass, and were staring into the kitchen.

"¡Cállate! ¡Salí!" Alejandro snapped, not raising himself from 10K's back. The hostiles shut the door again with haste.

Murphy closed his eyes tightly. From his appearance, he may have been trying not to see the pain and fear on 10K's face. But that wasn't what he was doing... he had begun to focus all his energy on one thing, and one thing only. He didn't know how far his influence over the zombies could reach... he had never controlled more than a few of them at a time, and never from a distance. But he grabbed onto that feeling of power in his mind, sharpening it, stretching it, casting it out in all directions with all the intensity he could muster.

In the streets of Roswell, half a mile from the house in which Murphy sat, groups of zombies stumbled to a stop, turning their heads back and forth. Their groans and hisses ceased, as they slowly came about to stare toward the house from all directions. A few of them took some lurching steps in that direction. Then more of them followed, speeding up as they stumbled forward.

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	11. Luck, Be a Zombie Tonight

**WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS PROFANITY AND SEXUAL REFERENCES.**

Chapter Eleven

"Luck, Be a Zombie Tonight"

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"A little harder..."

"Doc, more on your end."

"I got it, almost got it."

"It's moving... come on..."

"Wait - did you hear that?"

"Yeah..."

"What do you reckon...?"

"Shh... one more time, keep pulling."

"It sounded like breaking glass..."

"10K?" Doc had stopped pulling on his end to look up at the ceiling.

"I hope not..." whispered Addy tensely, pausing in her efforts as well.

"Come on, guys, focus," whispered Warren, "We almost have this. Ready? Pull."

Warren, Doc, and Addy all leaned forward, pulling as hard as they could against the ropes that bound their hands to the pipe behind them.

"Again, come on... Go."

Again the three of them pulled, their faces strained as they threw their combined weight against the radiator pipe.

The pipe bowed outward. With a wrenching sound of metal against metal, it finally gave way. The metal socket inside the drywall burst apart and one side of the pipe fell loose, sending Doc careening sideways against Addy.

"They might have heard that," said Warren quietly as she braced Addy upright.

"Maybe not... there's a door at the top of the cellar stairs, and one at the bottom," said Addy in a hopeful undertone, as Doc maneuvered himself sideways toward the free end of the pipe. As soon as Doc had freed himself and gotten to his feet, Addy followed suit, and then Warren, each of them standing up.

"Find something to cut our ropes," Warren ordered them urgently, already heading to the edge of the cellar to search. The rest of them spread out.

"Over here," said Doc, squinting to try and see through the semi-darkness. There was a tool box resting against the wall, half open. He used his foot to push it the rest of the way open, then tipped the box over, spilling its contents. It was mostly small wrenches, sockets, bolts, and screwdrivers... but a thin instrument stood out to Doc, and he pushed it out from underneath the other items with his toe. "There's an exacto knife here!" He exclaimed under his breath, hardly able to believe their luck.

"Shh..." hissed Warren, crossing the room to him, with Addy close behind her. "Alright, let's do this."

Doc went first, and it was difficult work. He lowered himself to the ground, backing up to pick up the knife with his bound hands. Carefully, he flipped the knife over in his fingers, which were mostly asleep, and pressed the blade against the inside of his ropes. With steady, small movements, he started to sever the fibers, one by one. Soon the ropes loosened, almost cut, and Doc was able to slice through the last of them with a few quick strokes. He brought his arms around and rubbed his wrists as the ropes fell to the floor. "Damn... that's sore. Come here, Addy, you're next..."

After Addy's bindings were cut, and Doc had moved on to Warren's, Addy went to the cellar door. Steeling herself, she tried the door handle.

It was locked. She tried to turn it harder, maybe it was stuck... but it wasn't. As Doc and Warren came up behind her, she turned to face them. "It's locked from the other side. Let's break it down..."

Doc stared at her. "Are you a barbarian?" He asked her with fond amazement, and shook his head. "No... this isn't a suicide mission yet, alright? We don't want to be heard... I know just the thing." He went back over to the toolbox, bending down to search through the items on the floor. Finally he straightened up, holding a paper clip between his fingers. "Lucky..." he muttered, crossing back to the door, and kneeling down in front of the handle.

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In the kitchen above, Murphy opened his eyes. There was a ringing in his ears... had his attempt succeeded? It was impossible to tell...

Alejandro was bending 10K over the table, holding him still with a hand gripping the back of the boy's neck, pressing into him from behind. "Stop fighting, niño," the man ordered breathlessly, shoving the side of 10K's face into the surface of the table.

"Let me up..." gasped 10K, struggling to breathe. His sight reddened around the edges as he was flooded by waves of sounds and images from the zombie collector's mansion. Inside he was panicking, and he couldn't get out of the hostile's grasp. Alejandro pressed harder against him from behind, his breath washing over 10K's neck. It was all so familiar... so similar to the zombie collector, as though that had happened only yesterday. Or maybe it was happening right now... the more panicked he became, the less sure he felt of what was going on. The weight pushing down on him... the breath on his neck... he saw the face of the zombie collector, and he felt him reaching... his cold fingers touching and bruising 10K in places no one had ever tried to touch before but he, himself. "Don't," gasped 10K, giving another sharp struggle underneath his tormentor. "Don't!"

"EY! NIÑO! Are you going to stop fighting, or you want me to hurt you? Is this what you want?"

"Let him go, you inbred shit stain!" Snarled Murphy. The ropes around his ankles cut white lines across his skin as he strained against them.

Alejandro smirked darkly at him, twisting the blade of his knife lightly against 10K's neck from above, drawing more blood. Then he straightened halfway up, still pinning 10K to the table by the neck, and sheathed his knife, grabbing one of the boy's arms and twisting it sharply behind his back. 10K bit back a cry of anger as he was pulled upright, and Alejandro kept twisting his arm past its capacity. The bone in his forearm cracked, and 10K choked on a hoarse scream of pain, arching his body in an attempt to lessen the pressure in his arm.

"SON OF A MOTHERFUCKING BITCH!" Yelled Murphy hoarsely, his face darkening in his breathless rage. "HE DOESN'T KNOW ANYTHING!"

"Make him stop fighting me, señor. If you do not, I will do much worse. If you do not obey me, I will do much worse. Are you beginning to understand?" Alejandro gave 10K's broken arm a sharp tug, pinning it across his lower back.

10K stopped fighting as he felt the pressure on his broken arm increase. His movements stilled, all his muscles tense and quivering, his feet spread wide for balance on the kitchen floor. His knees shook uncontrollably.

"Better," said Alejandro coolly, and he straightened up a little, releasing 10K's arm a fraction of an inch. Even this caused 10K to grimace and hiss in pain, rolling his head back. "Gracias, señor Murphy. I was almost made to truly harm him..."

"I didn't make him stop fighting," Murphy ground out. The legs of his chair were beginning to creak again as he kept fighting the restraints.

"No?" Alejandro looked torn between surprise, amusement, and disappointment. "But you will use your power, mi amigo. Before the end." With his hand gripping 10K's broken arm behind the boy's back, the hostile drew his knife once more, pressing it up under 10K's jaw. 10K's free hand reached up to grab hold of the hostile's forearm as the man started pulling him backward, away from the table. He shuffled his feet, allowing himself to be dragged a few feet across the floor. Knives of pain lanced through his arm, and cold sweat began to stand out on his forehead and the bridge of his nose.

"I'll tell you what you want to know," grated Murphy. "Whatever you want me to do, I'll do it."

"No..." gasped 10K, finding his voice again. "Murphy, don't - don't use it - "

Alejandro tightened his grip on 10K's broken arm, and pushed his knife harder against the boy's throat, effectively cutting him off. He looked over at Murphy, his eyes gleaming. "I told you what I want you to do, hombre estúpido... Are you going to do it?"

"It - no, it doesn't work like that!" Stuttered Murphy furiously, "I can't turn it on and off, it happens when there are Z's nearby!"

"Mierde... I think you can control it, you see..." remarked Alejandro darkly. He tweaked 10K's arm, and the boy choked down another cry.

"I CAN'T!" Shouted Murphy, and his chair had reached breaking point. With a crackling sound, the legs of the chair splintered out from under it, sending Murphy falling forward against the table. Without his arms to stop his fall, the chair pulled him to the floor, and he kicked fiercely, trying to free his ankles the rest of the way.

When Alejandro saw Murphy go down, he let go of 10K's broken arm, and shoved the boy headfirst into the wall by his shoulders. 10K tripped under the force of the shove, and struck the wall head first, dropping to the floor and rolling to a stop against it. Alejandro was moving toward Murphy, his gun already drawn in his hand, his aim trained on Murphy's gut. But before he could reach him, there was a commotion outside the kitchen window, on the back porch. Something thudded against outside wall, and then something else thudded beside it. Alejandro stopped with his gun aimed directly at Murphy, staring out through the window.

The back lawn was a mass of teeming, stumbling zombies. As they trampled the poorly made wire fence, they swarmed toward the house, as though something had set their minds on that one house alone. The first ones to arrive had already climbed the porch steps, and were now drooling and growling at the kitchen window. They stared blankly in at Alejandro with dead, gray eyes. He was the only one in the kitchen still standing, the only one they could see. Their snarls grew louder as more zombies followed them... dozens of Z's, pouring like a flood into the backyard and heading for the porch, while others circled around to the front.

Behind the kitchen table, tangled in the broken chair, Murphy was finally able to kick his legs completely free of their restraints. He jumped to his feet, facing Alejandro, but the fury on his face faded slightly when he realized the hostile had zero attention to give him. Slowly, Murphy turned around and saw the yard outside. The hopelessness, the rage, and the fear on his face was gradually replaced with a slow, dark smile and a glimmer of revenge in his eyes.

The zombies outside began to push against the already broken glass of the kitchen window, hissing and growling and pounding their undead fists. The glass stood, but there were high pitched sounds as thin cracks spread from frame to frame. 10K sat up, and when he registered what was happening, his face turned pale... and he scrabbled against the wall to stand, watching the Z's through the window with a mixture of anger, fear, and uncertainty. He had no weapon... he needed one - he dove forward toward the table, intending to grab one of the candlesticks, but Alejandro pushed him aside, swinging his gun around to train on 10K's forehead.

"Move, and you die..." hissed Alejandro, fixing 10K with a deadly stare, which he then turned on Murphy. "You also, blue man... I will kill you all, if it means I survive." Keeping his gun on his captives, he drew his knife, whistling through his teeth to alert the hostiles in the hallway. "EY! Tenemos compañía!" Alejandro yelled, drawing his knife with his free hand. The door swung open, and three of the hostiles stumbled in. Alejandro turned to face the kitchen window once more, and his comrades joined him.

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	12. Tactical Maneuvering

**Warning: this chapter contains violence and gore.**

Chapter Twelve

"Tactical Maneuvering"

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Gunshots rang out in the small kitchen. Alejandro and three of his comrades opened fire on the zombies through the kitchen window, evidently realizing that the broken glass was near shattering point anyway. The glass exploded into hundreds of shards and bounced off the wood floor in all directions. The zombies at the front of the herd fell as bullets pierced their skulls, but the ones behind them on the porch occupied their vacated spaces, and now there was no glass to keep them out. Two at a time, they launched themselves through the window into the kitchen, and Alejandro continued firing into their midst, along with the other three hostiles.

"¡Date prisa, idiotas! ¡Disparar a los mordedores más cercanos!" Shouted Alejandro, firing shot after shot, not very careful to avoid Murphy's general direction. One of his bullets grazed Murphy's temple, and the man reeled sideways, falling into the corner of the room. With his arms bound behind his back, he could do nothing to stop his fall, and he hit the floor hard, his back hitting the wall. The side of his head burned and lights popped in his eyes; the sounds in the room dulled to muffled, indistinct white noise in his ears. He wondered if the shot had been fatal... Whether he was dead, or still alive... in his confusion, the answer eluded him, and he lay on the floor in a semi-conscious state.

Alejandro's distant voice pierced through the white noise. "¡Hay demasiados! ¡Ir! ¡Ir!"

The snarling, growling sounds of the zombies started to clarify in Murphy's mind once more, and he blinked open his eyes. There was a lot of blood coming out of the side of his head, but he tried to raise it, looking around. Above him, zombies were pouring into the kitchen through the window. They were passing over Murphy's corner of the floor without so much as a sniff, swarming into the room toward the hostiles. But Alejandro must have ordered the others out, because the four hostiles were angling toward the door. One of them opened it - still firing - and they all fled through it, slamming it shut behind them. They left the kitchen in roiling, snarling turmoil.

When Murphy had been hit, panic had seized 10K for a moment, but there wasn't time to give in to it - he entered reactive mode, and darted forward, grabbing the candlestick off the kitchen table with his good arm. Gripping it tightly, he faced the oncoming tide. There were six of them coming toward him, two in front, three behind. One coming at him from the side. He gauged all this in a split second, and turned sideways, bringing the candlestick swinging down against the skull of the first zombie. The blow threw the zombie off its feet, but it struggled to stand, until 10K jumped behind it, shoving it down with a hand between its shoulder blades. He ignored the sharp, fiery pains that lanced into his hand as he used his broken arm, pushing it to the back of his mind. Swiftly, he delivered another two strikes to the Z's head, crushing the skull.

Without missing a beat, he leaped back up and took a few hasty steps backward. Two of closest zombies tripped blindly over their fallen brethren in their bid to reach 10K. As they hit the ground, the boy had already jumped on top of one of them, straddling its gut. He drove the candlestick into the creature's brain three times.

The other zombie who had tripped lurched toward him from its knees, bowling 10K off the dead zombie's body and rolling over him. The creature's teeth came dangerously close to 10K's bare shoulder, but the boy used the momentum of the roll to kick the creature off him, wrenching himself free, and turning around stab the tip of the candlestick through the zombie's eye socket, deep into its brain.

He yanked the weapon free of the dead zombie, and scrambled to his feet. He whirled around as three more zombies swarmed him. Instinctively, he dodged away from them in the direction of the kitchen counter, grabbing one of the cans of soup off the floor as he did. He didn't have time to aim it, he just threw the heavy, metal can as hard as he could, already raising the blood-covered candlestick again to attack. The can hit true - it collided with one of the zombie's heads with a sickening crunch, breaking through its decomposed skull. As that one fell, 10K swung the candlestick sideways at another one's head, dropping that one to the floor as well, but it wasn't dead - it still lunged toward him. 10K tripped backward over one of the dead Z's and landed on his back with a shout, holding his hands out above him as a zombie fell on top of him. "NO!" He yelled hoarsely, kicking and squirming, using both his arms to try and push the zombie away. "Die! Just die!"

He tried to shove the candlestick upward into the creature's eye socket. His angle was bad - the weapon failed to strike the brain, but chipped sideways, breaking through the zombie's nose and cheek, spattering 10K's face with blood. He yanked hard on the candlestick, trying to pull it out of the creature's face, holding the zombie's gnashing teeth at bay with one hand against the front of its throat. But another zombie fell on top of the first one, and it was all 10K could do to keep the zombie's drooling face away from his skin. He kept trying, with bursts of aggression and muffled shouts, but he couldn't get the candlestick loose - -

"No!" Yelled Murphy, and suddenly he was there, kicking the zombies off 10K. He knelt down beside him in a rush, putting one knee out over the boy's chest as he turned to face the coming zombies. His brow creased, and his eyes burned... the air between Murphy and the herd shimmered almost imperceptibly. He tried to force his control over them, with more focus and more intensity than he had ever tried before.

Under him, 10K gave a muffled shout of surprise, covering his forehead with his good hand and squeezing his eyes shut. His other arm had gone limp, the broken bone now protruding through the skin of his forearm because he had used it to fight the zombies. He couldn't sit up - Murphy's knee kept him down, but he could feel Murphy's influence on the Z's, even though it wasn't directed at him. It was a painful pressure in his head that scrambled his thoughts and took his breath away.

The zombies continued to snarl, some of them lurching forward a few steps, then stopping, as the others stumbled in their wake. They seemed to take a little longer than usual to heed Murphy's control, and they still eyed 10K with rabid, hungry growls in their throats.

But after a moment, they stopped advancing. The ones who had swarmed 10K got to their feet. Instead of attacking, they stayed where they were, swaying slightly from side to side. The rest of them began to sway crookedly too, wheezing and gurgling as their blank, decaying eye sockets all turned to fix on Murphy.

"Alright," said Murphy in a voice of forced calm, without taking his eyes off the Z's. "Good..." he turned slowly to look down at 10K. "I got them, kid. They won't attack us. Come on, get up." Murphy moved his knee and stood to one side.

10K curled up into a sitting position, lowering his hand from his forehead as the sensation of pressure faded. He stared at the zombies, who wouldn't look at him now, and only had eyes for Murphy. Slowly, 10K got to his feet near Murphy, turning to look up at the blue-skinned man. "You brought them?"

"No time," muttered Murphy. "Come with me to the door, open it. Let them into the house. Then untie the ropes around my arms."

It was an order, direct and clear. 10K hesitated, watching Murphy's face as he tried to regain his breath. His thoughts tumbled over themselves as he tried to see past Murphy's eyes, tried to determine whether or not... but no... no, the man hadn't used the influence of control. He had simply told him what to do...

When Murphy started across the room to the door, 10K followed him without hesitation, staying so close that he knocked into him a couple times. The zombies on either side of them watched them pass without reacting, until they had reached the door, and 10K grabbed the handle. It didn't have a lock. Following Murphy's example, he flattened against the wall on one side of the door in case of waiting hostiles, and pushed the door open.

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"Weapons at the ready..." hissed Warren, as Doc swung the first door open at the bottom of the cellar stairs. "Those gunshots were not warnings, that wasn't child's play. Something bad's going down up there."

Addy held up the sharp-looking screwdriver she had swiped from the toolbox, and gave Warren a firm nod. Warren nodded back to her, then looked to Doc. Looking sheepish, Doc paused, then held up the paper clip in his fingers.

"Here," whispered Warren, shaking her head and descending a few steps. She handed him the exacto knife, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a wrench to use instead. Doc took the knife with a silent nod of appreciation, and the three of them quickly and silently climbed the stairs to the second door.

Warren tried the handle... it wasn't locked. With a sigh of relief, she hesitated, and looked below to Addy and Doc on the stairs. "Everybody ready?"

"Go for it, Warren," said Addy in an undertone, tightening her grip around the handle of the screwdriver.

"You bet, sarge, guns blazing," said Doc quietly, with a nod of certainty.

Warren felt a flare of love and affection for these people as she took another moment to look at their faces. But a moment was all they could spare. With a short nod, she faced front and turned the door handle, pushing the door open into the hallway.

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Kindly review! ; )


	13. Welcome to the New Age

**a/n:** Sorry for the delay! Schoolwork is starting to pile up ;) Thank you to all reviewers, you make the sun shine!

 **Shannonisabanana:** I'm so glad you're loving it! I try to write as frequently as I can, but don't worry, this story won't be forgotten about!

 **Morte Mistrata:** Thank you for your thoughtful reviews, I appreciate them deeply. I hope you continue to enjoy it!

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Chapter Thirteen

"Welcome to the New Age"

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Warren tried to slam the door shut at the top of the cellar stairs as soon as she opened it, but the nearest zombies lurched forward, pushing it open again, and forcing the three of them back down the stairs.

"Go back! Go back!" Yelled Warren, backing down the stairs with the wrench held out in front of her. The others didn't need telling twice. Upon seeing the swell of zombies above, they rushed back down the stairs.

Doc was the first one to reach the door. He grabbed the door handle, rattled the door, and kicked it. "It locked itself again!" He said in a hoarse voice. He scrambled with the paper clip in his pocket, but it dropped to the floor. "There's not enough time!" He expelled heatedly, scrambling to pick up the clip and straighten it out again.

One of the zombies tripped over the threshold, and tumbled down the stairs toward them. With a shout, Addy jumped forward and piked it as it rolled, then yanked her screwdriver out of its temple. Above them, another few zombies filled the doorway, snarling and hissing. Another one of them lurched into the stairwell and fell, only to be met by Addy's screwdriver in the back of its skull.

"WHAT DO WE DO?" Yelled Addy, pulling out the screwdriver and raising it toward the herd at the stop of the stairs.

"Murphy..." muttered Warren, clutching her wrench as she shifted on the spot, both hands raised in front of them. "Murphy... where are you, you son of a bitch..."

There was nowhere to turn... their retreat was blocked, and more zombies began to fill the doorway above them, attracted to Addy's yell. They started pushing into each other, and several more fell down the first few stairs, tangling with each other as they rolled, their hands clawing in the direction of Warren, Doc, and Addy.

Warren lunged forward, trying to bash the skull of a Z that was struggling back to its feet, halfway down the stairs. The heavy wrench cracked the bone, but didn't destroy the brain. The zombie roared, flailing its arms as it made to lurch over the body of one of the dead Z's toward Warren. Without a second to spare, Addy shoved Warren aside, swinging the screwdriver down toward the thing's head, piking it quickly, and jumping back as Warren retreated. Doc took one look at the thin, flimsy exacto knife in his hand, then looked slowly back up at the impending tidal wave of zombies. The three of them pressed their backs against the closed basement door.

There was nowhere to go.

Warren cursed softly. "We are not going down like this," She muttered, her face pale.

Doc nodded in full agreement, and dropped his now-useless knife to the floor. He turned around and started pounding fiercely on the locked door, trying to break it down.

Two more Z's made it down into the stairwell, tripping and stumbling on the stairs, but they managed to remain on their feet.

"ADDY!" Yelled Warren, abandoning quiet, "Get the one on the left! I've got the right!"

Doc continued heaving against the cellar door with all his might as Addy piked a Z, and Warren bashed another one's head until its brains splattered across the stairs.

"Just hold them off another second!" Gasped Doc, ramming his shoulder into the door. "I have this!" He rammed the door again, but it wouldn't budge. The bolt was reinforced steel.

"There are too many!" Cried Addy, stabbing her weapon through the head of another Z.

"Just keep piking!" Commanded Warren, battering the head of another one, smashing its skull from the side and letting it fall on top of the growing pile of dead Z's. Addy stood by her side, holding them off. She drove the screwdriver through the nasal cavity of one of them, into its brain, killing it instantly, and pushing it backward as it was falling, causing two zombies on the stairs behind it to trip and fall. Addy and Warren converged on those two next.

"This is it... this is it..." gasped Addy under her breath as she tugged her screwdriver loose from bone.

"This isn't it! Keep fighting! Never stop fighting!" Yelled Warren, swinging her wrench up to bring it down hard against another skull.

Up at the top of the stairs, the zombies stopped moving and parted sideways, away from the door. One of them came forward to stand on the threshold, staring down at the group through the dim light.

Warren swore loudly, kicking aside a dead body to give them more room to fight. "Come on!" She roared, glaring up at the zombie. "This the best you can do?!"

The zombie pushed past its brethren, hands held out. The Z's around it backed further away from the cellar stairs. The ones already filling the stairwell stopped moving now, too, taking their eyes off the group to turn and look up the stairs.

Then 10K appeared at the top of the stairs, to stand beside the zombie. The boy reached out briefly to steady himself against the Z, leaning forward to breathe hard, and the Z braced an arm under 10K's elbow.

"10K?" Whispered Warren, her eyes widening. She slowly lowered her arm, and the wrench dropped out of her hand. Her eyes flickered to the one beside 10K, the one she had thought was a zombie. "Murphy...?" She looked like she didn't know what to say or think as she stared up at the two of them.

Doc had whirled around when he heard Warren, and now he and Addy were both staring up at 10K and Murphy with mixed expressions of shock and overwhelming gratitude.

"10K!" Shouted Doc exuberantly, moving to rush up the stairs without a second thought. The zombies in the stairwell closed in, wheezing heavily, with snarls beginning to rumble in their throats again. Doc stopped abruptly, holding up his hands and stepping back down the stairs. He gazed in some confusion at the zombies, then up at Murphy and 10K. "You okay, kid?" He asked breathlessly, sounding much like a winded rhinoceros.

10K nodded quickly, glancing at Murphy, then back down at Doc. "I'm fine," he told them, his voice scratchy and tense. "Murphy got us out."

Warren continued to stare up at them for a few moments, and no one else said anything. The only sounds were the mostly benign wheezing of the Z's standing in their way. After a minute, Warren took a deep breath. She clasped her hands in front of her chest, shutting her eyes for a second. _Thank you..._ she thought with all her strength. _Thank you._ Looking back up, she put herself back into gear. "Okay... where are the hostiles now?"

10K paused, looking sideways at Murphy, expecting him to answer. When he didn't say anything, 10K's brows furrowed slightly, and a confused frown began to pull at his lips. He looked away from Murphy, back down to the group. "We don't know," he answered Warren. "They left when the zombies broke in. I don't think they're inside the house anymore..."

"Alright..." said Warren, nodding grimly. "Alright. They could be waiting for us outside, or they could be at our vehicle, waiting for us there... we're not out of this yet."

"Maybe not," snorted Doc, "But I'd sure appreciate it if we could get out of... _this..."_ He gestured toward the zombies blocking the stairwell, and levelled a pointed gaze toward Murphy.

Murphy seemed to hesitate, staring down at them through the semi-darkness. His hands were clenched tightly at his sides, and his eyes were unfocused, as though he was thinking very deeply about something...

The _power_... all this power... there were more than thirty zombies inside the house, and he knew where each of them were. His influence extended to each and every one, with some influence left over. How much stronger could he become, if he was already this strong? He hadn't had any idea how much power lay in his mind, until moments ago. Now, it coursed through his veins and sparked in his eyes, it tingled along his skin like electricity.

With this power, he could do anything...

Why would he need the lab in California? Why would he need any of these people, if he can do all this, and more?

The thoughts didn't feel like his own, but he embraced them as they filled his mind with warmth and certainty. The energy continued to surge through his body, making his hairs stand on end.

Why hadn't he realized it before? With this power, he could rule the entire town. No... he could rule the country. He could rule the world...

"Murphy?"

He could start with this group... he didn't need to take orders from them anymore. That would have to change... he would be the one giving orders, and they would follow. Control... that was what he had. In a world where all control had been taken out of the hands of the people, he had found it. And he needed to use it... that was its purpose. The only good thing to come out of this wayward folly to reach some lab on the other side of the country...

"Murphy!" Something touched his shoulder, giving him a light push.

Murphy blinked, then blinked again, turning with difficulty to look down at 10K. "What?" he asked the boy sharply.

10K withdrew his hand as though he had been burned. "What are you doing?" the boy asked carefully, staring at his face. "Are you okay?"

"Am I - ?" Murphy stumbled over the answer, trailing off, looking down over the heads of the stairwell zombies to the group at the bottom.

"Murphy!"

Murphy dragged his attention back to 10K, beside him. "What?" He demanded.

10K swallowed hard as an inexplicable uneasiness took hold of him again. His brow creased, and he studied Murphy's face, trying to calculate the man's strange behavior. "Is it safe for them to come up? You have control of the zombies?"

"Murphy?" Warren prompted, "Murphy, let's get out of here - come on, let's go. Can we come up yet?" She eyed the now-snarling zombies doubtfully.

Murphy didn't show any sign he had heard either of them. His gaze moved to the zombies lining the stairwell. He seemed to study them each closely, his face blank of all expression. Slowly, his eyes shifted back to Warren, and there was something about the way they shone that made Warren's skin tingle unpleasantly. She didn't look away from him, and her brows drew slowly together as the seconds ticked onward. The growls grew louder in the throats of the stairwell zombies.

A heavy, unpredictable strangeness pressed on the group as they waited quietly, watching the two of them at the top of the stairs. No one spoke... the strangeness drew on, so uncomfortable that it sent a chill down 10K's spine.

Then, without warning, Murphy reached out and took 10K by the upper arm. With a sharp exhale, 10K leaned away, unable to reach up with his other hand, because of his broken arm. "Come on, kid..." muttered Murphy.

"Wh-what?" Stuttered 10K, unnerved by the unexpected physical contact. "Murphy, let go -"

Murphy's grip tightened exponentially around 10K's arm, and the boy instinctively curled his body toward Murphy to lessen the pressure on his arm. "Hey! Let go, Murphy, what are you -? What are you doing -?"

"Murphy!" Yelled Warren from below, reaching down in a flash to pick up her wrench again. "What is going on, Murphy?" She held out the wrench toward the closest zombies, all relief vanishing from her face, replaced by wary caution.

"What the hell's the matter with you, Murphy?" Shouted Doc, in anger and surprise. He had no idea what to expect next, but he knew the zombies blocking their way had all turned their eyes back down on the three at the base of the steps.

"They won't attack you," growled Murphy, throwing a quick look down the stairs. "They'll keep you here, until I signal them. Then you'll be able to get out."

"Get out?" Warren repeated in slow, rising tones, as an angry fire sparked to life in her chest. "We're getting out right here, right now, with you and 10K."

"No. You're staying... we're going," said Murphy. His voice was deadly quiet.

10K's eyes widened, and he turned a pale face up to look at Murphy's face. "No..." he said under his breath, feeling frozen. "No, we're not..."

Murphy's hand tightened around his arm again. "I said come on, kid. Let's go."

10K shook his head slowly. "I'm not leaving them like that," he said, his voice cracking. "What are you doing? Why are you talking like that?"

"Murphy, let the kid go!" Doc commanded tensely, wielding the small exacto knife in the direction of the stairwell zombies. "What's gotten into you?"

Murphy paused another moment, to look down at Doc. "It's been in me all this time... I just didn't know it. Now, I do." He began to pull 10K backward by the arm, away from the door at the top of the stairs.

10K reached up with his broken arm to push at Murphy's hand, ignoring the searing pain that brought cold sweat to his forehead. His hand was useless... he had no control of his fingers, so all he could do was try to pull free. Which he began to do in earnest, when he felt the man's grip tighten again. He dropped his weight toward the floor, pulling and yanking against Murphy's grasp. He had entered instinct mode once more, and it pushed out the fear and the uncertainty. It took him over.

He ducked away from Murphy's other arm as it swung to grab him around the middle, and brought his bare heel down on Murphy's instep. Murphy howled in pain, his grip loosening slightly around the boy's arm, only to tighten with a vengeance. 10K gasped at the pain of it, but didn't have fear in him anymore to worry about what having two broken arms would do for him in the apocalypse. He didn't have thoughts, to wonder why Murphy wasn't just using their connection to control him... he only had instinct, and he couldn't be dragged away from the group, leaving them to the zombies.

The shouting voices of the others were drowned out by the sound of rushing blood in 10K's ears as he fought to get free from Murphy. Murphy brought his knee up hard into 10K's stomach, forcing all the air out of his lungs. 10K doubled over, heaving for air. His chest was constricted - he couldn't draw breath, and when Murphy let go of his arm, he had no thought for freedom - only for air. He dropped to all fours, his head hanging down as he coughed and gasped, attempting to draw breath under what felt like a ten thousand pound weight pushing on his chest from all sides.

Before he could get his breath back, he was being lifted, and slung over Murphy's shoulder. He bent his knees, still struggling for breath, and with every breath he did manage to take, his chest would close again, forcing the air out in harsh, tight coughs.

"Sorry, kid... breathe..."

Murphy's voice sounded odd behind the rushing in 10K's ears. The pain in his arm shot up into his neck as his chest closed again as he was bounced up and down. He could vaguely see they were outside the house now.

"Murphy - stop - please, Murph - y -" he gasped and coughed. He'd never had the wind knocked out of him quite so badly before.

"Shh... just shut it, okay, kid? I have to think..."


	14. Dusk Approaches

Chapter Fourteen

"Dusk Approaches"

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"Think about what?" Demanded 10K, finally starting to regain his breath. He elbowed Murphy as hard as he could between the shoulder blades, causing the man to grunt, and drop him off the side of his shoulder.

But Murphy grabbed 10K's unbroken arm as he dropped him, so that when 10K's feet hit the ground, he was already being dragged forward in the same direction as before.

"Murphy!" Heaved 10K, trying to dig his heels into the ground. "Murphy, stop!"

"I told you to shut up!" Growled Murphy, continuing to pull him roughly forward. The older man's eyes searched diligently in all directions as he moved them toward the edge of town. There was no sign of the hostiles, or the black van they had driven 10K in.

"You're leaving them to die!" 10K's voice reached feverish pitches, but he didn't lower it, not even at the risk of alerting the hostiles to their position.

"You left them to die, don't you remember? It was only a few hours ago!" Murphy didn't know why he was saying the things that were coming out of his mouth, but he knew they needed to keep moving. And he knew he needed 10K with him, since the boy could shoot a penny from a mile away, and Murphy couldn't shoot the broad side of a barn.

"Not to die!" Gasped 10K, "You all could have made it without me, this is different - they're trapped by Z's, they have no weapons -"

Murphy gave a harsh tug on 10K's arm, causing the boy to stumble, but Murphy righted him before he could fall. He didn't answer, but only kept yanking him closer and closer to the last row of houses by the arm.

10K entered a mode of desperation as he caught sight of their red van ahead, a few hundred yards outside the city. It didn't look like it had been ransacked by the hostiles yet... He could even see some things on the dirt beside it, which looked like Warren's duffel bags and a few toppled fuel cans.

"Wait!" Yelled 10K, and he dug his heels in again, trying to get Murphy's attention. "Please - wait - Murphy, listen - just wait a second -"

But Murphy didn't wait, and he didn't listen. As they neared the vehicle, Murphy could see that everything the group had dropped when the hostiles attacked was still there. Everything except the weapons. They had probably been snatched up by the hostiles after Warren, Doc, and Murphy had attempted a retaliation. Whatever the case, they were gone now.

Murphy dragged 10K up beside the van, and hurried to slide open the back door, throwing it back and hoisting 10K up into the first row of seats.

Immediately, 10K jumped back up again, casting a brief stare at Murphy through the open van door. A split second later he leapt forward to the front of the vehicle, grabbing the door handle, about to rip it open and run for it.

"Stop!" Barked Murphy.

10K froze with his hand on the door handle, his eyes widening as he stared at the leather interior of the driver's side door. His heart beat had sped up, and his breath was caught in his throat.

Murphy had gone still, leaning slightly inside the van. He breathed heavily, his eyes glued on 10K. "Sit in the passenger seat... go on, go."

10K still held his breath. He slowly removed his hand from the door, his eyes flickering from the handle over to the passenger seat, and the next thing he knew, he was moving over to it, across the aisle. Sinking into it, he gripped the edge of the seat with his good arm, turning his head to watch as Murphy climbed in through the back door.

Murphy climbed forward into the driver's seat, and 10K's eyes locked on him as he passed. He glanced sideways at the kid. 10K didn't move, or look away... Murphy felt an overwhelming flood of regret, hating the idea that he had caused the pain and uncertainty in the boy's dark-rimmed eyes. He quickly looked away again, and bent down to reach for the floor mat, where Warren always put the key whenever the vehicle stopped for a long period of time. This was a safety measure against raiders and thieves, even when someone would be staying with the vehicle. Never leave the keys on your body...

"Murphy..." 10K's voice was quieter than before, almost too quiet.

Murphy risked another look in his direction. 10K was watching him from beneath drawn brows, his expression dark. He looked like he wasn't sure exactly what was happening yet.

Murphy decided he wouldn't give the kid time to do that. He shoved the key into the ignition and the engine sputtered to life.

Murphy stopped then, only for a few seconds. He closed his eyes, and concentrated very hard.

Back inside the city, in the cramped, zombie filled basement stairwell, Warren, Doc, and Addy finally found themselves free to move. The Z's that had blocked their way moved up the stairs and across the threshold, disappearing as a group around the corner and into the rest of the house.

At the bottom of the cellar stairs, the three of them stood frozen for several seconds. The last zombie vacated the stairwell, and Warren stared up at the empty doorway, her heart speeding in her chest. It only took a moment for her to regain her wits. She took a sharp breath, and turned to Doc and Addy. "Come on, guys..." she hissed, started up the stairs with the wrench still grasped in her hand.

Doc snapped out of it the second Warren spoke, and shoved past her, bolting up the stairs with shocking agility. "WE'RE COMING, KID!" He yelled at the top of his lungs, despite the risk of zombies and hostiles.

"Doc! Quiet!" Ordered Warren as she and Addy ran up the stairs right behind him. They made it out of the house, without any time to stop and look for clothing or weapons. The sun was lower in the sky, a few degrees above the horizon, and the clouds were starting to glow orange as sunset approached.

"Stay together!" Called Addy in hushed concern, but Doc pulled ahead of the other two, running east down main street as fast as he could.

"10K!" Yelled Doc, heedless of either of their words, "MURPHY! 10K!"

Behind them, zombies began stumbling out of the house, tripping and lunging down the front steps, attracted to the sound of Doc's voice. Evidently, they were no longer under any form of control. The Z's clumsily pursued them, but the three of them were much faster than the dead ones, and Warren only spared their presence a brief glance over her shoulder as they gained distance.

Ahead of them, the houses thinned, and their van came into view beyond the edge of town.

"Thank God - " panted Warren, but she was cut short. A plume of dust spewed out from under the back tires of the vehicle, and it swerved violently into motion.

"NO!" Yelled Doc so loudly that his voice broke. He didn't slow his stride in that direction. "MURPHY!"

The van rocketed across the sand toward the north, and sped out of sight around the houses at the edge of town.

"Where in the hell are they going?" Panted Warren as she slowed to a light jog, her hand against her forehead, watching the vehicle disappear. Addy slowed down beside her, but Doc kept running.

"We can't let them get away!" Hollered Doc, picking up his speed a little, sprinting past the last row of houses. Dirt kicked up behind him as his feet left the pavement, and he careened across a sandy yard and jumped over its short fence. "We have to follow them!"

"Doc, hold up!" Begged Addy, slowing to a stop and bracing herself on her knees as she heaved for breath. "Doc - we won't catch them! We can't outrun the van!"

"We have to! Murphy's rogue, didn't you see? We have to stop them!"

"They won't get far without fuel!" Yelled Warren; she had to shout, because Doc had pulled so far ahead.

Hearing how far behind him his comrades were, Doc screeched to a halt and whirled around, running back toward them. "What are you doing?" He gasped furiously. "Come on, let's move!"

"No," answered Warren shortly, fighting to normalize her fast breathing, "Doc, we need to think about this. We have to form a plan..."

Addy nodded, straightening up as Doc padded back over to them. "Warren's right. We need a car, we need guns."

Doc looked both skeptical and maniacal. "Where are we going to find a car that won't take hours to get running?" He demanded, looking behind him again to where the van had disappeared. "Didn't you see the look on 10K's face...?"

Addy laid a hand tightly on Doc's arm. "We're going to find them, Doc."

"The hostiles..." muttered Warren, her voice lower as she retreated into thought.

"What?" Said Doc sharply, his head whipping around to stare at her, then visually sweeping the streets.

Warren turned back around to face the center of town, her eyes performing the same cursory search across the battered townscape. The zombies were still several hundred yards away, clumsily attempting to catch up to them. Warren looked back at the other two, her eyes flickering between Addy and Doc. "The hostiles..." said Warren again, louder this time. "They have a vehicle, too. We need to find them, and take it from them."

Addy glanced at Doc, then back to Warren, some uncertainty coming across her face. "They have a lot of firepower," she reminded Warren doubtfully. It was rare that she would question the woman in a tight spot. "We have none. And..." she paused, glancing down at herself, bare except for her bra and underwear. "We're naked..."

Doc gave them both a look of impatient disbelief. "It doesn't matter! Who's gonna care, the zombies? I don't think they give half a damn if we're in combat gear or our birthday suits!"

"I know..." said Addy, shaking her head, and she didn't argue, but she tried to use her hands to cover up a little. Her eyes shifted to Warren, who gave her a firm nod of understanding. Warren knew the dangers, too... and her solidarity gave Addy some reassurance.

"Come on," whispered Warren, putting an arm around Addy's shoulder, and clapping a hand on Doc's back. She gave her head a quick tilt sideways, toward the rows of houses now lit by the brightly setting sun. "We gotta lose fan club Z, and find the hostiles. We're getting both of them back, Murphy and 10K. Let's move."

...

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	15. Stones, Slings, and Splints

**Em: I hope your life isn't spiraling! I very much appreciate your reviews ;)**

 **Everwild: Yes! I aimed toward this story arc on purpose, because I'm so upset about Murphy's lack of empathy in season 3. And because I love any story arc that includes 10K, Murphy, Doc, Warren, Addy, or anyone else from Z Nation! Most especially 10K. I hope you continue to enjoy it.**

Chapter Fifteen

"Stones, Slings, and Splints"

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...

Warren led the small group back toward the center of town. They kept close to the sides of buildings as they went, crouching low to the ground, and staying in the growing shadows wherever they could. They had lost the zombies easily; all it had taken was a rock thrown against the side of a house to distract the small herd as the three made their escape around the side of a post office.

"Keep low..." Warren reminded them in an undertone as they neared a group of businesses centered around the main road. There was no sign in any direction of zombies, hostiles, or the black van the hostiles had been driving.

Warren held up her hand at the edge of the main road, and Doc and Addy came to a stop behind her (Doc a little less patiently than Addy.) Warren stared around silently for another moment, and then gestured briefly for them to follow her. She made her way quickly across the street to a store front, opened the glass door, and held it open so Doc and Warren could duck inside. She let the door swing closed behind them. Doc and Addy began a quick check of the interior. Fortunately, it was a small building, and it didn't appear there were any zombies inside.

Doc lowered his exacto knife with a skeptical expression, taking an eye off the scattered merchandise to turn and face Warren. "Really?" He demanded of her.

Warren ignored him, and put her hand on Addy's shoulder, leading her to the first few rows of clothing. "Alright, let's be quick. Time is not on our side," she told the girl. Then she started rifling through the remaining clothes. Addy followed suit. After a few seconds of frustrated indecision, Doc ran forward and grabbed the first pair of sweatpants he could find, picking up a smaller pair from under a pile of slippers. That pair was for 10K, and on second thought, Doc also went back in for a black shirt he had seen. He even grabbed a pair of plus-sized lady's slacks for Murphy. He was more than a little bitter at the man for taking 10K, and making a run for it, after everything they had been through together.

By the time he turned back to the door, the other two were already dressed. "Damn..." muttered Doc, shaking his head.

"Don't be too upset, or I might just break your nose," warned Warren.

"Not damn about that... damn, you look ridiculous carrying wrenches and screwdrivers with those clothes on.." Doc pulled on his sweatpants and went over to one of the mangled wracks of clothing again.

"Did we look less ridiculous carrying them without our clothes?" Asked Addy with dry humor, much more comfortable now that she was covered.

Doc didn't answer. He yanked a long, metal pole out from the wreckage, inspecting it, and then handed it toward Addy. "Here. Longer reach than what you have..."

"Good thinking," said Warren, moving to a nearby rack and wrestling free another metal pole, while Doc procured his own. When all three of them stood clothed and armed - somewhat - Warren gave them a firm nod. "Alright, let's find those Spanish-speaking bastards. That van is ours."

...

...

...

10K remained perfectly still in his seat, watching the dashboard. He knew now what had happened... and it made him boil inside. He felt like every good feeling he ever had was curdling into dark waves of fear and rage that threatened to spill out of him with every bump of the van across the dirt. But he didn't let any of it show on his face... and he didn't say a word to Murphy.

Murphy kept his eyes on the road and the rearview mirror as much as possible. The town of Roswell receded into the horizon behind them, and darkness fell over the van and its occupants. A full, silver moon rose ahead of them, throwing them and the desert beyond their headlights into a cool, blue light. Murphy glanced at it above the skyline, and his eyes darkened at its presence. He reached up and pushed down his visor, blocking the moon's light from his side of the car.

Still, 10K didn't move or speak.

Murphy cast a sidelong look toward him, swallowing hard. "You should go to sleep... it'll be a long night," he said in a low voice.

10K looked over at him, his face devoid of all expression. His eyes seemed hollow as he turned away from Murphy again to stare through the windshield. His eyelids started to droop, and he propped his elbow on the window sill, giving his head a sharp shake to try and clear it. His head grew heavy on his shoulders, and he leaned it back against the seat, his eyes closing. A moment later, his shoulders drooped, and his head rolled sideways against the window frame. He was fast asleep.

Murphy looked over at him, glanced back at the road, then looked again, seeming confused. "What...? Hey, kid..." he muttered to 10K. "I was just suggesting..."

But 10K didn't wake up, and an unsettling idea sank in as Murphy stared at him. He had not used the influence... at least, he hadn't meant to... but now that he thought about it, the influence was there. He could feel it, hovering between them, as though it was laughing at him. Almost as though it was breathing...

But no... That quiet, deep breathing came from 10K. And maybe it was better that way - now the boy wouldn't spend the whole night plotting Murphy's death. Even so, Murphy took hold of the influence, pulling it back to him and into its rightful place. It was harder than it should have been to do, but Murphy didn't give it any more thought, because as soon as he had it back, most of his remorse and worry was muted by it once more.

As the influence left 10K, the boy made a quiet sound under his breath, shifting some against the window frame. He didn't wake up.

Pausing for a moment, Murphy tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, then leaned back and reached for a blanket that someone had stuffed under the passenger seat. Straightening up again, with a glance ahead to the empty road, he tossed the blanket across the narrow aisle, pulling it a little so that it covered all of 10K below his shoulders, down to his feet.

They would have to find some clothes and weapons somewhere... no point in having a sharp shooter if they didn't have a rifle, or at least a slingshot and a stone...

SEVERAL HOURS LATER

...10K's eyes snapped open. He drew in a sharp breath, lifting his head from where it had drifted against the window glass. He reached up to rub the side of his cheek, his thoughts slow and blurry.

A sharp twinge in his broken arm sent jolting waves of pain down into his hand, and the cobwebs cleared from his mind. He moved his good arm to cover his broken one, straightening up in the seat and turning his head to look at Murphy.

A wool blanket fell off of him; he didn't notice it. It was still dark outside, but he could see the dark blue outline of Murphy's face on the other side of the van.

The man saw him move, and looked his way.

10K tensed, his eyes sparking. "Where are we going?" He asked in a voice that cracked with dryness.

Murphy looked away from him, but then glanced back in his direction, his eyes flickering to the arm 10K was cradling. The man let out a long exhale... Letting up on the gas, he pressed on the brakes and brought the van to a slow stop.

10K stared at him in confusion. "What are you doing...?"

Murphy put the van in park, turning sideways in his seat to look beadily through the back windshield, before reaching to a side compartment and taking out a roll of thin rope. 10K watched his every move without comprehension.

Next, Murphy grabbed a wrench out of the compartment, and a large cotton cloth. After closing the compartment, and turning forward, he flicked on the overhead light and leaned toward 10K. "Give me that," he said roughly, gesturing at him with the wrench.

10K didn't answer him at first. He stayed still, his eyes sharpening, and a thin line appeared between his brows. "What?" He finally asked with carefully controlled anger.

"Your arm," said Murphy impatiently, gesturing again with the wrench. "I'll set it for you. Otherwise it'll take longer, and it won't heal right."

10K covered his arm more tightly with his hand, and gave his head a shake of refusal. "No," he told him, gritting his teeth together.

Murphy sighed, giving 10K a longsuffering look, though he was glad at least that the influence didn't seem to be operating on its own anymore. "You healed before, didn't you? When they cracked your head... If you let me set it, it'll heal by morning, I'll bet you anything."

"No," growled 10K again, louder, reaching for the door handle with his good hand. "I'm getting out."

The moment 10K's hand touched the leather, Murphy felt a pull on his mind, and quickly reached out with his influence. It flowed out of him like a river dam had broken. "Don't," he ordered sharply.

10K stopped short with his hand on the door handle. That now-familiar feeling of Murphy's control caught him in the chest, and he took a quick breath. "I have to take a piss..." he said in an angry undertone, without looking at him.

Murphy paused, a hand held out toward 10K. He wondered if the boy was pulling his leg... but then again, they'd been in the car for six hours. "You do?" He asked uncertainly.

"I'll do it right here on the floor if you want," said 10K darkly.

"No," said Murphy, shaking his head. "No, you can go. But before you do, give me your arm."

10K didn't want to. He could feel the tug of Murphy's control in his mind, and he let his arm fall off his lap, ignoring the pain. Murphy lifted the arm with a hand at his wrist and a hand at his elbow, gentler than 10K had expected. His fingers pressed carefully along the top of his forearm. 10K bit back a groan of pain, clenching his jaw as the touches sent shards of agony into his hand and shoulder.

"Alright, this will hurt..." warned Murphy.

10K said nothing. All his muscles tensed.

Murphy watched him for another split-second, before applying a slight pressure downward with one hand, and pulling gently outward on 10K's arm with the other hand. The fractured edges of 10K's bone grated against each other, causing 10K to press his head back into the seat, shutting his eyes.

Murphy kept up the pressure, until he felt the edges of bone catch against each other, and then he held 10K's arm still. In a few quick movements, he flattened the wrench against the underside of the boy's arm, and used the thin rope to tie it tightly on either side of the break, and at the edges of the wrench.

Without waiting, Murphy lowered himself out of his seat and kneeled beside the passenger seat to have better access to 10K's front. 10K grunted in angry surprise at Murphy unexpected proximity, but Murphy lifted 10K's arm so that it rested flat against the boy's stomach. He tied the long cloth behind 10K's neck, fashioning a crude sling, and slipped 10K's arm into it, so that it hung with a little support. Murphy let go of 10K and drew back, double checking his inexpert work for a moment. Then he gave a nod, and pushed himself back into the driver's seat.

Still clenching his jaw, 10K shifted against the door, inwardly trying to deny the physical relief he could already feel from what Murphy had done. "Can I take a piss now?" he gritted out.

"Yes - yeah, go ahead," answered Murphy, unexpectedly quiet.

As 10K opened his door, Murphy opened the driver's side door. 10K stopped again, staring across the aisle at him.

Murphy stared back, raising his eyebrows. "You're not going alone," he informed 10K sternly. "You wouldn't get far if you tried to run, you know..."

10K held back a furious, unbelieving growl, and pushed his door open, climbing out. He made a beeline for the darkness at the back of the van and kept going, his bare feet tangling in hedges of rough grass. It almost tripped him but he caught his balance, widening his stance. With one arm in a sling, his balance was definitely not what he wished it was.

"That's far enough!" Called Murphy.

10K stumbled to a stop, his emotions roiling in his chest at his inability to ignore the command. He turned to see how far he was from the van, and swore under his breath. He had to figure a way out of this... he had to...

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	16. Bad Move?

Chapter Sixteen

"Bad Move?"

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...

...

"What are you doing out there?" Murphy's voice called impatiently from near the van.

10K growled under his breath, zipped up his pants, and turned back. "What do you think...?" he muttered, just loud enough for Murphy to hear the contention in his tone.

"It doesn't take ten minutes to pee, kid," grumped Murphy as 10K came back into the glow of the headlights. "Don't you know we're in a hurry?"

"You are," 10K corrected him, averting his gaze and opening the passenger door. "I'm not."

Murphy let out an exasperated sound. "I know you hate me for this," he said, moving around the front of the van and getting in through the driver's side. "I know that, okay? But I need you, 10K, I can't do this alone."

10K felt a flare of anger. "You weren't alone," he threw across the aisle after Murphy had climbed in and closed the door. "You had Doc, Warren, and Addy. And me..."

Murphy watched him for a second, without turning the van back on yet. After a prolonged quiet, he stated in a low voice, "That was the old mission."

10K glanced over, his face darkened by the stormy anger in his shadowy, blue eyes. "That mission matters."

"Not as much as it used to," argued Murphy, finally turning the key in the ignition so that engine sputtered, but then died. "Damn it... the fuel tank's almost empty..." he tried it again, and this time it tumbled to life. He looked back over at 10K. "I can control zombies, kid. It makes this whole - apocalypse - obsolete, don't you get it? I can control entire herds of them."

When the topic jumped to the matter of Murphy's control over the zombies, 10K clenched his teeth and turned to stare out the window into the blackness. The emptiness in his gut expanded, making him feel hollow and dead.

"You'll see I'm right," Murphy continued, and 10K felt the van jolt into drive. "You'll end up agreeing with me."

10K didn't answer, and the van began to move forward, quickly picking up speed. He knew Murphy was wrong. He would never forgive the man for any of it. Not for biting him to save his life... not for using his power to influence 10K... not for being there in the mansion, for seeing what the zombie collector had done...

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...

Warren crept around the corner of an old, dilapidated church, with Doc and Addy following close behind her. The three of them looked slightly out of place in the pale light of the moon; Warren in a pair of black slacks and a white wifebeater, Addy in a short, purple dress with black leggings beneath, and Doc in some overlarge gray sweatpants, no shirt. Doc carried the clothing intended for 10K and Murphy over his shoulder. All of them wielded their long, hollow metal poles with twisted, sharp-looking ends.

"Stop..." murmured Warren, retreating a few steps back behind the church. Her backtracking forced Doc and Addy to follow suit.

"What is it, sarge?" Asked Doc quietly.

"It's there," whispered Warren, turning to look at them, and as a group, the three comrades leaned slowly out from behind the church to see the street.

There on the corner, unmanned and engine off, sat the black van. Moonlight glinted off the windshield.

"Any sign of them?" breathed Addy, shifting her weapon between her hands.

Warren shook her head, her eyes probing sharply into the darkness in every direction.

"It could be a trap," said Addy, her voice almost too quiet to be heard.

"It doesn't matter," said Doc immediately, with a short shake of his head. "We need that van."

"Doc's right," Warren agreed after a moment. "But let's be smart. Doc, go around to the left. I'll take the right. Addy, you'll stay here. Once we scout the vehicle from all directions, if there's still no sign of those assholes..." she thought for a moment. "Make the sound of an owl hooting," she finally told them.

Both of them stared at her, taken aback. "Hoot like an owl?" Doc repeated.

"What... you mean, like 'hoo - hoo?'" Addy whispered, frowning. "What are we, cowboys and Indians?"

"Don't argue," ordered Warren. "Are we all clear?"

Doc and Addy glanced at each other, their eyebrows raised. Then they turned in unison, and both nodded to Warren.

"Alright... go," mouthed Warren without a sound.

Their plan grew to fruition as Addy crouched down beside the church. The town was so silent that all she could hear was a constant, high pitched ringing in her ears. It started to take up all of her attention... what was that ringing? Why had she never noticed it before...?

It had been about twenty-five minutes, when she jolted back to attention. A soft hooting had issued from somewhere in the black street. The silliness of that plan was completely forgotten as Addy waited with baited breath, her head turned toward the right, the direction in which Warren had gone. Sure enough, after a few seconds, another quiet hooting broke the silence.

Exhaling a sigh of relief, Addy straightened up, cupping a hand at the side of her mouth. "Hoo... hoo - hoo..."

Now it was time to move, and move fast. Addy jumped up, tightening her grip on the base of the metal pole, and sprinted around the corner of the church into the dark street. She made straight for the van, her head whipping around in both directions. Warren and Addy materialized on either side of her, all of them almost silent on their feet.

Warren reached for the door handle of the driver's side, finding it unlocked, and pulled it open. "Get in," she hissed to the other two, as she slid into the driver's seat and began a frantic search for keys. Of course, she didn't expect to find any... that would have been far too easy.

Addy jumped into the back, and Doc into the passenger seat. He quickly joined in the search for keys, flipping his visor down to check there, kicking up the floor mat... but there was no key to be found.

"Alright... Doc, you know how to wire it?"

"Yeah... let me in there."

Warren and Doc switched places, and Doc pulled the lever to let the driver's seat slide as far back as possible, so that he could duck under the dashboard upside down with his knees up on the seat. That way, the door wouldn't need to be opened.

"There have to be five or six bottles of liquor back here..." came Addy's disgusted voice from the back. "What do these people think this is, a party in the USA?"

Doc tore off a section from the underside of the dashboard and tossed it up to Warren, who put it between her knees. "What else you need, Doc?"

"Some light," grunted Doc, squinting up at the wiring below the dashboard.

Warren cast around her, reaching her hand into the compartments lining the door. They were empty, except for another bottle of liquor, which she threw onto the floor in the back. "There's nothing," she breathed out, leaning back down near Doc. "We can't turn on the overhead light, it'll draw too much attention."

Doc made a snorting sound from under the steering wheel. "Well this should be easy..." he reached up and pulled a coil of wires toward him, all tied together. It was close to impossible to see what colors they were, but he fingered through them, breathing hard. He would make this work...

At that moment, gunfire broke out somewhere behind them.

"Shit!" Barked Warren, ducking lower in her seat and swiveling around to face Addy. "Get down!"

Addy already had, and it was a close call, because a split second later, a bullet shattered the back windshield, showering shards of glass everywhere.

"We can't fight back!" Squeaked Addy, a strange tone that sounded like a yell she had muted at the last moment. "We have nothing!"

"Hurry, Doc!" said Warren, her blood racing. "I see them! They're shooting from the second floor at our five, your six, Addy!"

"I'm hurrying!" Croaked Doc, scrambling with the wires. He used his exacto knife to slice through one of the cords just as another few bullets hit the exterior of the van, followed by furious shouting.

Doc touched the edges of the wire together. A sharp spark burst to life between them, and the engine gave a feeble roll. Yes! Thought Doc through his adrenaline. He had chosen the right wires. He touched them again, rubbing the tips together. A shower of sparks cascaded to the floor of the van, and the engine rumbled more loudly, making several meek turns before stopping.

A bullet zinged through the driver's side mirror from behind, and another one impacted a back window, travelling forward and shattering through the front windshield in one go.

Doc shut his eyes against bits of flying glass, scrambling for another spark.

Behind him, Addy had an idea. She uncovered her head, raising it slightly, just enough to see around her. Grabbing up all the bottles of liquor she could reach, she pulled them toward herself. "Warren! The pants and the exacto knife!"

Without pausing to wonder what the girl was thinking, Warren grabbed the knife from beside Doc and the pair of slacks he had brought for Murphy, and threw them backward toward Addy. Immediately, Addy began to slice through the pants, tearing off large chunks and rolling them into balls. She uncapped the bottles of liquor and wet the newly made rags thoroughly, then stuffed one rag into the top of each bottle. "Here!" She yelped to Warren, handing forward one of the soaked rags as another cascade of bullets hit the back of the van. The shouting paused, as if the men had gone inside the house again... probably to come downstairs and hit them up close.

"What's this for?" Growled Warren, grabbing the alcohol soaked rag from Addy, but as soon as her eyes fell on the work Addy had already done, she clicked into full gear. "Doc! Give us a good spark, and move your head!"

"What?" Demanded Doc from below the wheel, peering out.

"Just do it!"

Doc did as he was told, shifting so that the spark would fall far from his face, and as it crackled, Warren reached down with the rag and caught the spark on the wet fabric. It flared into a blaze and Doc let out a surprised yell, flailing his arms to push it back. But Warren had already withdrawn it, throwing it backward into the center aisle near Addy. Warren's fingers were badly burned, but it didn't matter.

Addy let the rag stay where it had fallen, and lowered the cloth-clogged tip of each liquor bottle toward the flames, setting the fabric at the top of the bottles ablaze. The shouts resumed behind them - the hostiles were now on ground level, advancing fast from the back.

"DO IT!" Yelled Warren, leaping down the aisle to help.

They each lobbed a bottle as hard as they could through the shattered back window. The bottles broke several meters away from the vehicle, and the alcohol exploded into flame, affording them a bright look at what they had hit. Screams rent the air as one of the gun wielding hostiles was covered in fire; he veered sideways, falling to the ground. The other bottle had broken on the street, opening up a short, fire-wreathed wall between the hostiles and the van.

"BITCH!" Shrieked one of the men, opening fire on the van again while another of his allies dropped beside their flaming brother, trying to put out the flames with his shirt.

Doc continued his hasty work beneath the dashboard - more sparks, more rumbling inside the engine - but each time, it quit after only a short second.

"DOC! You got this!" Yelled Warren, picking up another bottle. She waited for a pause in the gunfire, before both she and Addy threw more firebombs out the back, this time with a better idea of where to aim. Another man let out a blood curdling scream as he was struck, immediately consumed by the fire.

"Come on..." muttered Doc, pressing the wires together again, and again, sparks falling to the floor, "Come on!"

The engine coughed to life, and rumbled, finally holding on.

"YES!" Crowed Doc, scrambling to sit upright. "We are OUTTA HERE!"

"GO, GO! GO!" Yelled Warren, throwing another fire bomb out the back as Addy did the same.

...

...

...

 **ONE HOUR LATER, as the sun is rising...**

Murphy and 10K had travelled several dozen miles by the time the sun lit the landscape around them. They had driven out of the redrock, and now hills surrounded them on both sides, covered in sparse grasses and sagebrush. Neither of them had spoken in the last hour.

A light knocking began, and 10K turned to stare at the dashboard.

"No... no... damn it all, no!" Snapped Murphy.

10K's head whipped around to stare at him now.

Murphy pumped on the gas pedal. A loud knocking resulted, and the van began to slow.

"NO!" Snarled Murphy, shaking the steering wheel aggressively. "Just another hour! There's nothing here! Nothing!" The van slowed to 45 miles per hour, and nothing Murphy did was helping to maintain speed.

10K felt a sense of satisfaction creep through him at Murphy's frustration as he watched the blue-skinned man.

But wait... maybe this was his last chance... his only chance...

If he could do something now, anything to break Murphy's concentration... he might be able to get far enough from Murphy's mental influence to escape. Murphy would be unable to catch up to him on foot...

10K glanced subtly toward the areas surrounding his seat. His heartbeat sped up in his chest, and he cursed it inwardly. He would remain calm... the adrenaline would not show on the outside...

His eyes flickered sideways to Murphy, who was still staring in angry disbelief at the dashboard as he pumped the accelerator. With a slow indrawn breath, 10K reached down and pulled the wool blanket from the floor onto his lap. He kept his movements casual... predictable...

Murphy paid no attention, but reached forward and pounded a fist against the dashboard. The van slowed to 40 mph as it bumped across the rough surface of the road.

In a flash, 10K grabbed the blanket in both his hands and threw himself out of his seat. He slammed into Murphy from the side, pulling the blanket down over the man's head in the same instant and trying to shove Murphy against the door of the van.

Murphy let out a furious holler and jerked on the steering wheel, his hands leaving it altogether to wrestle with 10K's unexpected attack. The van swerved sharply, skidding sideways across the road, and the tires caught in a pothole. With a screech of metal the van flipped violently, tilting and rolling, spinning across the pavement. The front windshield and the other windows shattered; the frame of the vehicle bent and collapsed inward, throwing up sparks where metal met asphalt as the van landed on its back.

It ground to a stop upside down, smoke rising from its exposed underbelly. The smoke coiled up into the suddenly still air as the engine stopped whining, quitting altogether.

There was no movement from inside the van.

...

Please review! ;) Don't give up on Murphy! There is still hope for him! At least there is in my book.


	17. Huntin' Dogs

Chapter Seventeen

"Huntin' Dogs"

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10K blinked his eyes open. He turned his head... his neck muscles shivered in protest. He blinked again, slowly, his eyes flickering upward to the floor of the van. The seats hung upside down above him; the passenger seat had come part way out of the floor. He was lying on his back on the inverted ceiling, one of his legs up in the air, trapped between the dislocated passenger seat and the bent frame of the vehicle. There was a thick smell of smoke in his nose.

He turned his head again, this time in the other direction. Murphy was lying on his side a few feet away from him, facing him. His eyes were closed, and a steady stream of blood pulsed from a gash over his right temple.

10K's heart skipped a beat and he drew in a sharp breath of smoky air, staring at Murphy's lifeless, blue face. Had he killed him...?

But no.. Murphy's chest was rising and falling with shallow breaths. He was still alive.

10K snapped his head around, reaching up with his good arm to try and free his leg. He pounded a hand against the bent metal keeping his leg pinned, and he felt shards of broken glass slice into his calf. But he didn't let it slow his struggles. After a moment, he gave a final wrenching tug, pulling himself up so that all his weight hung off of that one leg, and his leg slid free. He fell back down to the cold metal ceiling of the van. Without pausing to assess the bleeding on his leg, he cast another quick look over at Murphy, and started to pull himself through one of the window frames and onto the asphalt outside.

When he was finally on his feet, he turned and ran. Fresh air hit him in the face, and spatters of blood from his cut leg flecked the pavement as he went, but he didn't feel any pain, not even in his broken arm. His body was surging with adrenaline, enough to carry him all the way back to Roswell...

The sound of his feet hitting the pavement slowed. He came to a stop and turned around, staring back at the wreckage across the hundred yards he had run.

Smoke rose from the van, curling up into the sky. Even from here, he could see it thickening the air inside the bent frame, leaking out of the shattered windows and windshield in heavy plumes.

He couldn't see Murphy from here, but he was inside that van, breathing in that smoke...

 _Run,_ he told himself firmly. _This is my only chance. If I go back there, and he wakes up, I'm finished._

But another voice, a smaller one, called his attention.

 _What about the cure...?_

His eyes darkened, and he glared in the direction of the smoldering van, breathing hard. He had cared about that mission before... it had been important. But not now, not anymore. Now all that mattered was getting away from Murphy... there was only one thing he could do. He had to run. He had to...

But he found himself picking up a slow jog back toward the van. His steps got faster, until he was at an all-out run, and he came skidding to a halt beside the vehicle, catching himself against it and bending down to look in through a mangled window frame. The smoke inside was getting so thick he could barely see Murphy. Looking quickly around him as though he might find something of use, he exhaled shortly and dropped to his knees, turning his attention back to the twisted frame. Holding his breath, he lowered himself almost to the ground, and pulled himself halfway back inside the vehicle.

As he reached for Murphy's arm, still trying to hold his breath, the man's eyes flickered open, and he turned to stare blearily at the boy.

10K froze, his good arm outstretched toward Murphy, half of his body submerged in the smoky frame of the car. He stared back at Murphy as though he had turned to stone. After a long moment during which neither one of them moved, 10K let the air out of his chest, and gasped for more. The smoke hit his lungs like fire and he coughed hard; it seemed to throw him back into action.

His hand closed around Murphy's wrist like a vice, and he started to back out of the window frame. He called on strength he had never known he had. With a yell of impossible effort, he pulled Murphy halfway out of the window. Once 10K himself was clear of the frame, he straightened up and used his feet on either side of the bent metal to leverage Murphy almost completely out of the wreck.

He stood up, still holding onto Murphy's wrist, and with a final burst of energy, he pulled the man several feet away from the van.

Murphy grunted, his brows furrowed tightly in what 10K could only imagine was pain. _Good, he deserves it..._ the man's eyes rolled, and almost shut. But now that the fresh air was blowing across his skin, he took in great lungfuls of it, hardly seeming to be aware that 10K was beside him. His eyes shut again.

10K, on the other hand, sat on the pavement and stared at Murphy as though in shock. He had wasted what might have been his only chance to escape... he could have left Murphy to die... screw the survival of the human race...

He could still escape. Murphy seemed in and out of consciousness; he had gotten him out of immediate danger, and he could now make a run for it...

He scrambled halfway to his feet, his heart speeding up again.

A loud snarling reached his ears from behind him, and his head whipped around. He stared toward the top of the nearest hill, frozen in a half crouch.

Over the top of the hill, several hundred meters away, staggered a lone zombie. It crested the hill, its head bent to one side as it started to stumble down toward the road. Behind it, several more heads appeared; a dozen more zombies topped the hill, snarling and hissing through their teeth as they followed the first.

10K swore under his breath. Adrenaline coursed through him again, and he dropped down beside Murphy to grab the man's arm. He dragged Murphy with one hand, heaving him across the asphalt until he was halfway around the back of the upturned vehicle. He took a moment to stare down at Murphy's face; the blue-skinned man's eyes were closed, and there was rapid movement behind his eyelids.

"Murphy!" 10K growled, shaking him by a shoulder. "Murphy, wake up."

But Murphy's eyes remained closed. 10K clenched his jaw, his eyes darting across Murphy's face for one moment more, before he stood up again. He reached up and slipped a hand inside the sling Murphy had fashioned. Some faint pain twinged across his healing forearm as the fingers of his other hand closed around the wrench holding his bone in place. With a quick movement, he tore it loose from its ropes. A tight gasp escaped his lips and he shut his eyes against the shards of pain that lanced up his arm as a result, drawing the wrench out in a grip so tight it whitened his knuckles.

He rounded the corner of the van, the wrench held out before him. The zombies were a hundred meters away, and closing the gap.

At that moment, 10K saw another group of heads appear over the top of the hill. But these ones wore cowboy hats... these people didn't stagger. They were heavily armed, each of the six of them carrying automatic rifles. Handguns and ammo glinted at their belts and over their shoulders.

Only now did 10K notice something very strange. The zombies each came to a reluctant stop as the men at the top of the hill did. 10K looked closer, his eyes flickering rapidly across the scene unfolding above him. Thin lines extended from the zombies' necks up to the men in hats. The men held the lines, and had pulled tight when they spotted the van down in the road, forcing the zombies to stop walking.

 _They had them on leashes..._

"Howdy, yonder!" One of them called down the slope.

10K remained still, his gaze moving to the one who had spoken.

"Y'all have had an accident!"

With tremulous movements, 10K straightened up, lowering the wrench slightly. He gave his head half a shake to the negative. "We're fine," he called up to them. "It... it wasn't our van."

The men exchanged disbelieving glances. The one who had spoken, who wore the hat with the widest brim, made a clucking sound between his teeth. "It ain't?" he called down, giving the leash attached to one of the zombies a small tug. This seemed to anger the zombie, and it growled, its eyes fixed on the boy below. "Then where'd ya come from? What's all the blood, and where on the Lord's green earth is your clothes?"

10K turned to look in both directions, his heart beating a painful tattoo against his ribs. There was nowhere nearby... his lie had been stupid; he hadn't thought it through. "I walked here from over the hill," he answered the cowboy, looking back up at him with a gesture to the south. There was a fast sinking feeling in his stomach. He didn't even have a half-ass answer to offer in response to the other questions.

"Hmm..." muttered another one of them men. "See... that's strange. The dogs musta heard the crash or somethin', they started pullin' like crazy in this direction."

The sinking feeling in 10K's gut grew more pronounced. He looked around them again in each direction. "Dogs?"

Some of the men chuckled. "You got it, kid," drawled the man. "Them there's our huntin' dogs." He gave two of the leashes another jiggle, inciting another round of loud snarling from several of the zombies. "They's leadin' us to food, they always does."

10K tried to swallow, but his mouth was dryer than sand. _Hunting dogs? How do you train a zombie...?_

"They ain't the best at it... sometimes they get confused," the man continued, as if reading 10K's thoughts. "But they don't stay confused for long." He held up a small device, showing it to 10K, who could almost see it clearly at this distance, but not quite. "Tasers," the man explained. "They respond pretty damn well to electricity, ain't that a gamble?" But judging by his relaxed tone, and the lazy smile on his face, he seemed to enjoy the idea of risking his life and the lives of his men.

10K didn't answer. His gaze flickered back to the device in the man's hand, and to the other men. He realized each of them held a taser as well... his blood ran cold.

All he could think of now was the collector...

The man in the wide-brimmed hat advanced a few feet down the face of the slope, which in turn allowed two of the zombies to move forward ahead of him. "Say, kid... you alone?" He stopped again, pulling on the ropes so that the zombies came to a halt below him.

10K hesitated, caught between an instinct to fight, an impulse to run, and an urge to keep Murphy from being killed. The adrenaline flowing through him would have given him an upper hand in a fight, but it slowed his reasoning. He gave a slow nod.

"Y'are? That's even stranger than that there not bein' your van," the man drawled, "Then what didja mean by 'we?'"

A crease appeared between 10K's brows as a frown tugged at his lips.

"You said, 'we're' fine. It ain't 'our' van. So unless ya got a multiple personalities disorder..." the man grinned, and some of the men behind him let out light chuckles.

10K squared his shoulders to the hill, anger beginning to sharpen some of his thoughts. "What do you want?" he asked tensely, not loosening his hold around the handle of the wrench. "There's no food or water here..."

"The dogs thinks there is," the man contradicted him. "An' they ain't never wrong." The oily grin faded from his face as he surveyed the small valley and the broken road, finally sliding back to fix his gaze on 10K. "It's been some time since we had us some fresh meat."

 **...**

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	18. Unholy Hell

Chapter Eighteen

"Unholy Hell"

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 _Damn it all... does anyone eat anything but other people anymore?_

The man advanced a few more steps toward 10K. His pet zombies were now about a hundred feet from the van. "O' course... yer skinnier than a pole... won't be much meat on ya..."

"Don't come any closer," warned 10K, raising the wrench toward them in a slightly unsteady hand.

The men laughed amongst themselves, probably at the ridiculousness of seeing a small, half-naked youth wielding something that was clearly not sufficient as a weapon.

"Hey now," cooed the man in the wide-brimmed hat. "No need to be gettin' your panties in a bunch... if yer lyin', and somebody's with ya, he bigger than you, ya reckon?" He paused, a strange, menacing look coming over him. "Or she?"

"I'm alone," urged 10K, trying to repress the desperation rising in his throat. "I said 'we' earlier - but I didn't mean... it's only me -"

"Y-you d-didn't m-mean it?" The man interrupted him mockingly. "Well... we's gonna find out just exactly what ya meant, ain't we? Put down that dog bone on the road there next to ya."

10K did not comply, and he wondered if he could have, even if he had wanted to. His fingers were gripping so tightly around the wrench that he had lost feeling in his hand. He tried to draw in a deep breath, realizing all his muscles were stiffening for lack of oxygen; he had been mostly holding his breath. He tried to let his body relax... he would need agility if those zombies got any closer...

"Hey kid, you missin' yer ears? You hear me? I said put it down." The man's lazy drawl was gone from his tone, and he dropped his rifle off his shoulder and into his hands. His eyes glinted dangerously down at 10K as he raised the sights to the boy.

The other men saw the man with the wide-brimmed hat ready his weapon, and they followed suit. 10K heard the metallic clicks of their weapons as six automatic rifles were suddenly aimed down at him.

Slowly, 10K dropped into a crouch, not taking his eyes off the men. He placed the wrench on the ground between his feet.

"Atta'boy," remarked the closest man. "Wouldn't want you killin' me'n my crew with that there lethal looking piece o' metal, or my dogs, neither." The man made a gesture with his chin to the men standing behind him, and two of them came forward and relieved him of his two zombie leashes. He wiped his hands on his jeans, grabbed the taser off his belt, and made his way sideways until he was beyond the reach of his 'dogs.' Then he angled down the hill again, moving toward 10K, Murphy, and the wrecked van.

10K's muscles tensed again and he rose halfway from his crouch, his one good hand reaching to steady himself on a tire of the van. He took one step backward toward the edge of the van, behind which Murphy lay out of sight. His thoughts whirled inside his head... his heart hammered madly... he should run... he needed to stop them from finding Murphy... now, run! No, he needed to stay and fight... his body shifted again, this time perceptibly, closer to the edge of the van.

"Don't even think about it, sonny!" One of the men called from atop the hill, behind the leashed zombies. "Don't make a move or I'll shoot ya where you stand!"

He went still as the man slowly approached, steadily closing the distance between them. Adrenaline was beginning to burn a hole through 10K's stomach. As the man got nearer, his features became clearer. They were sharp and weather-worn, and a wide grin began to curve the man's lips as his pale eyes looked over 10K more closely. "You may be be a skinny little shit, but some o' them like 'em that way. Don't make for good eatin' though..."

10K didn't register a word he said. His knees were bent, and his eyes flickered quickly back and forth between the rifles on the hill, and the man in the wide-brimmed hat. His leg muscles contracted, lowering him slightly... he prepared to run. He had to run east... if he got shot, it might be better than anything else these people might have had in mind for him. If they didn't shoot, maybe they would give chase, and east would lead them away from the van, and away from Murphy...

...

Murphy's breathing started to even out. His eyes were open and shifting, but his mind was blurred. He could feel warmth coursing across his temple, and he slowly reached a hand up. Pulling his hand away from the side of his head, he saw blood covering his palm.

He tried to sit up. The world tilted dangerously and he fell limp again, his breath hitching harshly in his chest. Slowly, things stopped spinning again.

What had happened...?

The accident... 10K... the boy had jumped him, forced the crash...

Murphy blinked his eyes slowly a few times, and tried to sit up again. He managed to prop himself up against the bent metal of the car frame, but he had to lean his head back against it as dizziness took him again. He shut his eyes momentarily.

An image came to his mind...

10K's face... the boy was halfway inside the smoky van, his hand reaching out toward Murphy. He was staring at him, still as a statue, their eyes were locked... then he was pulling Murphy out of the smoke by the arm, across the sharp window frame, onto the pavement...

But after that, Murphy's memory was blank. He must have lost consciousness again.

He steeled himself to stand with a steadying breath. Then, with a groan to rival any walking dead, he hauled himself to his feet using the frame of the car. He swayed dangerously on the spot, using both his hands to keep himself upright. A heavy pounding resounded inside his head, and a few of his ribs felt broken.

That little punk...

The kid had probably taken off. Yes... he would have run. Murphy was surprised he had even bothered to drag him out of the car before he disappeared. Killing him would probably have solved all of 10K's problems, and...

A pang of regret struck him in the chest.

...He probably deserved worse...

The image of 10K's face as the boy leaned inside the van swam back to the forefront of Murphy's mind. The boy's eyes had been wide, and he hadn't looked away. It might have been the first time in months that 10K had actually looked him in the eye. There had been uncertainty... accusation... a deep sadness in those eyes, and fear. Fear of Murphy.

Murphy ran a hand over his short-cropped hair, and shook his head to try and clear it, which resulted in a sharp twinge of pain in his temple, but he ignored it. After another moment he pushed himself off the side of the van to stand on his own. He swayed a bit, and reached out with his hand to the frame of the van again. He turned his head painfully to look around him, his eyes sweeping the sloping landscape as far as he could see. There was no sign of anything, or anyone.

Dragging one foot behind the other, he used the upside-down van to make his way toward the back of it, where he could clearly see the road leading south through the hills, toward Roswell. He couldn't see very far before the winding lane of asphalt vanished between the round, sage-covered slopes.

He looked down at the pavement. His vision was starting to clear, and he lifted his hand from the bottom of the van. His balance was beginning to return as well.

There on the road were the black marks of the tires, left when the van had screeched sideways and overturned.

And between them, flecks of blood formed a scarce trail, stretching south toward Roswell across the pale, cracked road.

Murphy raised a hand to his face, placing it against his forehead, and rubbing it heavily down his cheek, smearing more blood over his jaw. His eyes stared into the distance to the east. The kid had really left him...

He was gone...

Only then did Murphy notice the sun was going down. He had lost almost the entire day; he must have been out for a good long while. As he stared at the setting sun, a glint of light against metal caught his eye on the road to the east. A black van appeared from between the hills, barreling toward him at breakneck speed. At this rate, the van would be on him in a matter of minutes.

"Shit... Mexicans," muttered Murphy out loud, staggering backward toward the van.

...

"Slow down, sarge - what the hell is that?" Said Doc from beside Warren. Warren's foot left the accelerator and covered the brake as she saw what he meant.

Ahead of them in the road, their old red van lay in ruin, belly up. Small tendrils of smoke drifted from its gutted innards. Warren felt the blood drain from her face.

"Unholy hell..." muttered Doc, and Addy jumped forward to kneel in the aisle and stare through the windshield as Warren slowed down the vehicle.

"Oh God..." breathed Addy, her face paler than a sheet at the sight of the wreckage. "Please no... No..."

Doc was out of the passenger door before Warren had completely brought the van to a stop. He slammed the door behind him and ran toward the wreck. "10K!" he yelled, using the van to stop his momentum and falling to his knees to look inside. Slivers of glass cut through his pants into his knees, but he didn't notice. "10K?" He repeated loudly, moving to another window frame to peer inside. "Murphy?"

Warren and Addy came running up beside Doc as he straightened up. He turned to face them, still on his knees. "They're not here..." he said under his breath.

Addy and Warren immediately turned in opposite directions, visually searching the surrounding hills.

But an unexpected voice brought them whirling around again.

"Warren..."

Murphy struggled out from behind the bent and broken hood of the vehicle. Blood covered one side of his head, still flowing fresh. The expression on his face was one of a man who had wandered too far down the wrong road, and who could never return.

"MURPHY!" Gasped Warren, grabbing Addy by the shirt and hauling her along as she rounded the front of the van to where Murphy stood. "What happened here?" She reached to grab Murphy by the arm, but Doc barged past her, knocking her out of the way.

Before any of them knew what had happened, Doc had raised a fist and swung, his blow connecting solidly with Murphy's face. The man reeled backward and collapsed to the ground with a grunt of expelled air.

"Doc -" barked Warren, moving forward, but Doc was already straddling Murphy, bending over him with another fist raised.

"Where is 10K?" He said furiously into Murphy's now even bloodier face. "Where's the kid?!"

"Doc, stop!" Warren ordered, and Doc felt both she and Addy grip him by the arms, heaving him off of Murphy. Doc fought to get loose, his angry eyes fixed on Murphy. "STOP!" Finally, Warren and Addy succeeded in pulling Doc a few feet from Murphy's prone form, not for lack of Doc's struggles. "He's already injured! Don't jeopardize the mission, we've come this far!" Panted Warren from beside Doc's ear.

Heaving for breath, Doc allowed them to pull him back a few more feet, but he didn't remove his eyes from Murphy. "Where is he?" He asked in a voice so tense it cracked.

Murphy shook his head, covering his mouth and nose with his hand. Doc had almost broken his nose... he spit some blood to the side, looking back to Warren, and then slowly to Doc. "He... took off on me." he ground out, remaining on his back on the ground. "He's gone."

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	19. The Wrong Place

**Warning: this chapter contains moderate levels of profanity. Be advised.**

Chapter Nineteen

"The Wrong Place"

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"You lost him?" Doc said slowly, every line in his face tense with anger.

Murphy cast a heavy stare in Doc's direction. "He lost me," he corrected him in a gravelly voice. "Crashed the van... then he took off. That way..." He pointed back toward Roswell, but his arm was unsteady.

Warren looked between Doc and Addy, then gave a short shake of her head. "No... we didn't see him on the road. He would have seen us."

Murphy rolled his eyes. "He hid from you. He knows the van you're driving belonged to those shitheads, he would have thought it was them."

Warren turned away from Murphy, to face the south-winding road. She couldn't bring herself to say out loud the first thing that had occurred to her. South was not the direction of their mission...

"Come on," said Doc loudly, interrupting Warren's thoughts as he made his way back toward the black van. "We're losing daylight."

Addy followed immediately, slinging her makeshift weapon over her shoulder. Warren hesitated only a moment more, before she gritted her teeth and started back toward the driver's side door. She stopped with her fingers on the handle, her hard gaze shifting over her shoulder to Murphy, who hadn't moved.

"Let's go," she said sharply.

Murphy met her eyes slowly. There was a deep frown forming on his face... it caught Warren's attention and she went still, her hand still on the vehicle. There was a strained, prolonged silence in which Warren, Doc, and Addy stared openly at Murphy, and none of them spoke.

As a warm breeze blew over the hills from the west, and the shadows lengthened around them, Murphy turned away from the others to face the wind. The sun sank a few degrees toward the horizon, and none of them moved.

A strange feeling had overcome him. He couldn't pinpoint it, and he had never felt it before. It felt like the influence... but somehow different, and it had stopped his train of thought in its tracks.

An image flashed in his mind... a sense, a pull... he blinked, giving his head a sharp shake to try and clear it. Then another image appeared, fleeting and blurred... indiscernible. He blinked several more times, raising a hand to shield his eyes as though a bright light was shining on his face. "What the..." his barely audible words of confusion trailed off and his mind filled with more pictures.

A face swam into his view... an unfamiliar face. Murphy reached out a hand, swiping at the empty air in front of him, trying to push back whoever it was. But then he realized he couldn't... his arms were bound behind him. The unfamiliar face grinned... broken teeth, a wide-brimmed hat... the sound of laughter and raucous whistles echoed through the corners of his mind.

Murphy took several blind, stumbling steps toward the west. But then with a cold sense of sinking bewilderment, he realized he couldn't move his legs, either.

He was kneeling on the ground... Something was holding him... binding him. His arms were behind him, tied tightly. The sounds and images flashed by like bright, broken reels of faded color film... A few more faces swam before him to join the first, each wearing the same leering grins. More scattered laughter...

"Murphy?"

The images jumbled. They bled together, slowing down, and then speeding up... Murphy tried to hold onto them, to see more, but he could feel them sliding out of his grasp.

"Murphy!"

Reality returned sharply, and the last of the strange feeling was sucked out of Murphy's mind as though into a black hole. He blinked his eyes, looking around. There in front of him were the sage-covered hills, and above him, the darkening sky. He was standing where he had been standing before. He was not on his knees, and his arms were not bound... there was no one standing over him.

Warren's hand was on his shoulder; he turned his head quickly to look at her, still struggling to make sense of what he had seen and felt. "No..." he muttered, shaking his head. He stepped forward, pulling out of Warren's grip. His eyes scanned the hills, searching. "No... no... damn it!" He tried to reach for those images again in his mind, tried to bring them back, but they were gone.

Warren stepped up behind him again, and Addy and Doc had left the van again to flank her. All three of them were watching Murphy with thoroughly perplexed expressions on their faces.

"Murphy... what are you doing?" Asked Warren quietly.

Murphy threw up his hands in frustration, and whirled back around to face them. "Why did you stop me?" He demanded loudly, and there was a glint of something deeper than worry in his eyes.

Warren crossed her arms, looking unamused and completely nonplussed. "What are you talking about?"

"10K!" Yelled Murphy, gesturing widely behind him to the west. "He's..."

Three pairs of eyes were fixed on him like glue.

Murphy swallowed. "He's not on the road."

Doc and Addy exchanged a dark look between them as Warren moved another step closer to Murphy. "You were the one who told us he was on the road." Murphy was staring west again, so she reached out and shoved him lightly by the shoulder in an attempt to make him face her. "Hey! Talk to me."

Murphy looked back at her reluctantly. "I can sense him. I don't know how... but he's not on the road. He's somewhere over that hill, and he's not alone."

"SENSE him?" Doc interjected from behind Warren. "Exactly what - ?"

"I don't know, but it was him," Murphy interrupted. "It was like I was... inside his mind."

"Hold up just a minute here," said Doc loudly, moving forward. Warren stepped slightly aside so that he could talk to Murphy, still eyeing the man closely. "I thought you said you couldn't sense him. That only works with the zombies, those were your words, man."

"How the hell am I supposed to know these things?" Growled Murphy, stepping forward too. He and Doc squared to each other aggressively. "There's no manual - there's just me."

Warren had a serious darkness in her eyes as she looked west now, too. "You're telling me 10K is in that direction?" She demanded, her eyes flicking back to Murphy's face.

"And he is not alone," Murphy reiterated loudly.

Addy came up behind Doc. "We can't take the van over the hills," she said in an undertone.

"We have legs," said Warren, without taking her gaze away from Murphy. "I believe you."

"Good..." murmured Murphy, already looking west again. "Because I'm right."

The mismatched group of four, each carrying nothing more than the jagged metal poles they had looted as weapons, left the road and started the trek up the sparse slope as they dubiously following Murphy's lead.

Unbeknownst to them, disguised in the falling darkness, a gray-silver sedan carrying five members of the Roswell Mexican clan hummed silently into view from the south. The hostiles' vehicle came to a slow stop, the eyes of its occupants fixed on Warren, Doc, Murphy and Addy as the rag tag group crested the hill and disappeared from view, leaving the black van parked on the dusty road behind them.

...

...

...

The men had brought 10K straight to what seemed like their place of residence and had tied him up, pushing him down into a corner. It was a one-room cabin at the base of a hill. Inside, the ceiling opened up, making the interior feel much bigger than how it looked from outside. They wouldn't let him stand up, but from there 10K had been able to see some details of the cabin, despite the semi-darkness. Elk antlers and animal pelts were nailed into all four walls, and several American flags hung from the ceiling. There were crackling flames in the fireplace and several large oil lanterns, casting a flickering light throughout the room that made the shadows of the group dance across the floor. There were at least a dozen men crammed inside, and through them it was almost impossible for 10K to pinpoint important details, like windows or other routes of escape.

"So if it ain't a zombie bite, what really happened then?" Demanded the man in the wide-brimmed hat through a toothy grin. He was the one the others referred to as Carl, and he was hovering near 10K with a mug in his hand, drinking liberal amounts of whatever drink he had in it. Now that most of the men were satisfied 10K hadn't been infected after they discovered the bite on his neck, they had all relaxed around the room once more, laughing amongst themselves as the chatter started to pick back up.

"I know what happened," chuckled one of them, this one a bearded, black-haired man who looked a little younger than his buddy. The bearded man shouldered his way past Carl and leaned over 10K, whose shoulders tensed a little, his attention sharpening. The man reached a hand down and grabbed him by the hair at the back of his head, pulling him roughly forward, bending him over almost double. As 10K's chin was forced down to his chest he tried to resist, but from his position there was nothing he could do. He grit his teeth and kept his mouth clamped shut, his chest tightening the breath out of his lungs.

The man examined Murphy's bite for a few moments, then let him go. 10K jerked sideways, using the release to try and get to his feet, but both Carl and Blackbeard shoved him back on both sides, until his knees hit the floor. There was loud laughter and applause from around the room.

"Sit. Stay." Ordered Carl menacingly.

"Yer a cracklin' little spitfire, ain'tcha?" Leered the man with the black beard, glancing to his comrade.

"Anyway, like you was sayin'..."

"Yeah. Like I was sayin', that there's the mark of a good fuck."

The room erupted again in echoing laughter, and 10K's eyes flickered around to the others, remaining silent and still.

"That ain't no such thing," roared Carl in a fit of amusement. "I seen the kinda bite you mean, and that ain't it. It's in the wrong place."

"I seen 'em, too," argued the other man, shoving Carl jovially by the shoulder. "Look where it's at. Back o' the neck, exactly where it'd be if I was behind him, just finishin' up."

More jibes and laughter rang through the room, and 10K heard the clinks of several glasses. He hoped it wasn't alcohol they were drinking... drunk people are less predictable than sober ones, he had come to know. Though at the same time, it might be easier for him to escape a room full of drunks than it would be if they were all clear-headed...

"Nah, get a room, ya fuckin' pervert," joked Carl good-naturedly. "I swear to Christ, Dan, the things you say... nex' time find me a woman, ya yellow livered hillbilly."

"Hah! I ain't finding you nothin' ya mangy-tailed old man. This one here's for me."

The two of them chuckled again, and 10K turned his eyes to the ground, mortified. All he could do was try to slow down his heart rate and keep breathing. There was a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, like a block of ice had been dropped in and was slowly melting.

"Hey," barked Dan, chucking 10K hard under the chin, making him lift his head. "Don't be an unfriendly little shit, ya hear?"

10K tried to yank his jaw out of the man's hold, doing his best not to look at him, but Dan was having none of it. With a sudden burst of aggression the man pulled him forward again by the neck, this time slinging him down onto his back on the floor. 10K let out a grunt of pain when he fell on top of his bound arms, his bare feet scrabbling on the wooden floorboard as he struggled to maneuver himself upright. Dan swept over him and pushed him back down, then straightened up and shoved a boot against his chest.

He pressed down hard, keeping 10K still with most of his weight bearing down on him. 10K fought for air, his head falling back against the floor, his breath coming in sharp, strained gasps.

"I told you not to be a rude li'l fucker," growled Dan, pushing harder with his boot against 10K's chest. "We're havin' us a good time, so have yerself a good time. Got it?"

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A/N I am so sorry for the delay! School has been... no. I won't go there, it would only make you suffer alongside me! I'll try to get much more regular again posting chapters. Leave a review ;)


	20. United

Chapter Twenty

"United"

 **Warnings** : this chapter contains profanity, and attempted rape of a minor. Please don't read if this is a trigger for you.

 **The rating for this story has been upgraded to M. That's because there are too many perverts in the zombie apocalypse! Don't blame me.**

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Dan lowered himself over 10K, lifting his heavy boot from 10K's chest and replacing it with his knee. 10K could breathe a little more easily now, but his breaths came harshly as the man bent even lower, his scruffy face only inches from 10K's own. 10K tried to turn his head sideways, but Dan grabbed a handful of hair on the side of his head and forced him to be still, his fetid breath washing over 10K like acid.

Dan gripped 10K by the hair, with one knee on his chest to keep him down. The man stared silently at 10K's features for a long time. 10K felt the ruckus around them dying to a low rumble of white noise in his mind. His heart was frozen in his chest, air was like glue in his throat as he stared up at Dan's face... the new wrinkles lined with dirt... the greasy stubble covering the bottom half of his face... and the gleaming look in his narrowed, brown eyes.

10K knew that look... he had seen it once before.

A leering grin stretched Dan's cracked lips, and a slow chuckle left his throat, bringing 10K back to reality. The noise picked up again, and the fuzzy, muffled ringing cleared a little from 10K's ears.

Waves of body odor rolled off the man and onto 10K.

"You are one fine prize, y'are." The man rumbled, sending more hot, rancid breath over 10K's face. "Some'a the other ones, they don't fancy it, never did, but hell... once you really look, ain't nothin' better than a sweet, sweet pucker like you."

The hand tightened in 10K's hair, causing him to grimace.

 _It's happening again. How can it be happening again?_

"Well? Don't got nothin' to say? Not... 'oh, please sir, you ain't gotta'... 'please let me go, I won't tell no one where y'are, hand to God, honest...'" Dan's high pitched, mocking voice grabbed the attention of a few of the men standing around, and 10K felt a few more pairs of eyes return to him. He gritted his teeth hard. He wouldn't open his mouth, he wouldn't give this guy or anyone else the satisfaction of seeing him react. That was just about the only control he had left, and he held onto it.

His refusal to respond seemed to heighten Dan's insistence, and he felt some hairs pull from his scalp as the fingers in his hair tightened painfully.

At least no one he cared about... at least no one he cared about would ever know...

"Take'im out back," someone said through the other men's voices, with the sound of a mug hitting a table.

"Why?" Growled Dan, his face now so close to 10K's that the boy could have counted the pores on his nose. "This show ain't just for me."

"Ain't no show."

"Some of us're tryin' to have a drink."

Dan sniggered through his nose without moving an inch. Without warning he closed the last few centimeter's between his face and 10K's, and his stubbly cheek pressed up against the side of 10K's cheek. 10K felt the man's mouth against his neck, and then the warm, wet feeling of a tongue dragging up his neck and jaw line. 10K shut his eyes tight when Dan's eyes lined up with his. There was a roaring in his ears, and the muffling was back. In his mind there was a sense of departure, very similar to what had happened in the collector's mansion. This time, he snapped into that place of detachment quickly, as though his mind knew better how to get there.

"Open your eyes, buck..." echoed Dan's voice from what sounded like a distance, but 10K kept his eyes squeezed shut.

Dan let go of the side of his hair and 10K pulled his head to the side, away from the man. But before he could take more than a breath he felt himself being yanked off the floor, and being pushed roughly onto his knees, his back hitting the wall behind him. His eyes flew open as Dan's shadow loomed over him, blocking out the light. In his strange, echoing disassociation, 10K heard the metallic sound of a zipper being pulled down.

Dan's hand pressed around his throat, gripping him under his jaw. The man knelt in front of him, his knees on either side of 10K and his face too close. "Open up," he ordered in a smooth, menacing tone.

Then he stood straighter, keeping 10K immobilized. His hand gripped like steel under 10K's jaw, cutting off just enough air that he was forced to draw gasps through his mouth. That made it hard to stay detached, and the room and voices started to return in clearer sound and color.

Everything started happening at twice the normal speed.

Dan's hips pressed toward his face. 10K gave a sharp struggle, a tight growl of desperation on his lips, which only spurred on his assailant. Suddenly 10K felt something hard and warm against his cheek, and he tried to turn his head - Dan's free hand was guiding it, pressing it harder against his cheek, across his mouth, pushing, trying to intrude...

10K struggled, tears stinging his eyes but he shut them again, his jaw clenched. Dan's hand tightened mercilessly at his throat, and he had to part his lips to fight for air.

"OY! CORN HUSKER!"

The yell cut across the room, and a moment later Dan's body was dragged away from 10K. The hand that had gripped his throat released, leaving him to bend over his thighs, panting for breath.

"What the fuck did I tell you?" Came the angry voice of one of the men.

"Get the fuck off me, old man!" Yelled Dan's voice, enraged.

"Take your shit show out the back door, or I'll fucking knock yer teeth out!"

There was the sound of a mug hitting the floor and breaking, as though Dan had taken a swing. Then a thud, and a grunt.

"Get your hands - motherfucker, I'll - "

"DAN! CHARLIE!" A pistol cocked, and the room suddenly went still. Nobody answered. "Y'all are actin' like rightwise fools!" It was Carl. "Charlie, let go o' the man."

Some rustling fabric, and the sound of boots thudding as Dan regained his footing.

"Dan. Put your goddamn cock back in your pants until you're out back. Ain't none'a ya gonna be startin' no goddamn fight between ya under my watch, or I'll tan every last one'a ya's sorry asses."

There was a ringing silence where no one moved. But after a moment there must have been some kind of indication of agreement, because 10K heard the gun being shoved back into a holster.

"Good. Then get the fuck out."

Dan grabbed 10K by the upper arm, his fingers grasping tight enough to leave a hand-shaped bruise mark. He heaved the boy across the floor through the parted group of men, and shoved him through the back door, which slammed behind them. Part of 10K registered that they were now on a rickety wooden porch before he was being pushed down the stairs. He tripped and fell, landing in a roll that brought him crashing into a garbage can, knocking it over. He tried to roll sideways and rush to his feet, but in the next split second Dan had landed on top of him, pinning him down.

"I'm gonna show you what a real bite feels like," growled Dan, grabbing 10K by the chin and forcing his head to one side. The altercation inside seemed to have lit a fire in him.

Before 10K had time to react, the man's teeth pressed against his collarbone. They scraped down to his shoulder and across his upper chest. There they pressed into his skin, biting down hard. As Dan's teeth split 10K's skin and muscle, the boy felt Dan's hips pushing hard against his own. Blood flowed down his side and he tried to restrain a cry of pain, and Dan kept biting. His hips thrust once and again against his boxer-clad front. Then the man, still moving his hips against 10K, released the bite and brought his teeth to the boy's neck. There he clamping down in another bite, his teeth punching through muscle, sending more fast trickles of blood down 10K's skin. 10K couldn't hold back another breathless cry as he felt Dan's incisors sawing into him.

The man let out a groan, bucking harder against 10K.

He groaned again, raising his head from 10K's neck. 10K's blood glistened on his chin. His tongue flicked out to lick it as he moved against 10K for a moment more, a breathless smile coming across his face. "You feel good, kid," he hissed. A few drops of blood dripped onto 10K's face. He couldn't breathe.

Dan stopped thrusting abruptly. He grabbed 10K's shoulders and flipped him over roughly. "You ready, sweetheart?"

If there was ever a moment where 10K came close to asking for mercy, it was that moment. Every nerve in his body pulsed with fear and electricity at the prospect of what was about to happen. He could taste the plea on his tongue, feel it in his chest, and it boiled in his stomach, forcing itself up into the base of his throat.

No -

Please, no -

He couldn't say it...

Something whistled through the air, and Dan gave a cry that was cut off almost before it began. The weight of his body fell off 10K's back. 10K struggled to his side, one leg bending to push him from the ground up to his knees, struggling to put distance between himself and the man.

All he saw when Murphy entered the yard was a flash of movement.

Murphy passed him at a full run, and 10K whirled around on the spot to watch where he went, spinning so fast he almost fell over again. Murphy grabbed Dan by the neck and hurled him backward across the back yard, into the spilled pile of trash. He jumped on top of him with a yell like the devil. His fists started flying, pummeling Dan's face again and again, over and over, his knuckles crushing against the other man's cheekbones, his nose, his brows, his jaw... blood starting to fly with every blow.

Murphy continued to punch. There was a snarl in his throat unlike anything 10K had ever heard.

Even after Murphy could feel bone breaking under his knuckles, and even after dark red brain matter started to leak from the side of Dan's head, he continued to punch. Long after the man had stopped resisting, stopped convulsing, and stopped breathing he hit him, his fists driving shards of bone deep into the dead man's brain.

Three more figures converged in the back yard. Someone reached behind 10K and helped him stand, hushing into his ear for his silence, pulling him backward toward the shelter of an overflowing dumpster.

10K couldn't take his eyes off Murphy.

Someone cut through the bindings, freeing his arms from behind his back, and he brought them forward to fold tightly across his stomach, his eyes fixed on Murphy and Dan.

Warren appeared, running toward Murphy, trying to pull him off the dead man. Murphy shook her off with a string of curses, to deliver another splintering round of punches to the caved-in skull below him. He grunted loudly with every punch as he started to run out of breath.

"Come on!" Hissed Warren, trying again to pull him away. "We got 10K! Let's get out of here while we can!"

"Come on, Doc! 10K! Let's go," Addy's voice, and then Doc was pulling10K. But it looked like Warren couldn't get Murphy off of Dan, despite her hardest efforts.

There was a loud roar of laughter from inside the house, and this finally seemed to tug Murphy out of his feverish attack. His punches stopped, and he sat straddled over Dan with blood dripping down his wrists. He panted for breath, his eyes burning holes into the dead man's crushed sockets.

"Murphy!"

At last, Warren was able to pull Murphy off of Dan. Murphy stumbled to his feet, aiming one hard kick into the dead man's ribs, before he allowed Warren to pull him back toward the group and away from the house. He screeched to a halt in front of 10K, shaking free of Warren's grasp once more to grab 10K by the jaw.

Instinctively, 10K seized up with a sharp inhale, reaching up to grab onto Murphy's wrist and pushing backward into Doc.

Doc's hands tightened on his shoulders. "Murphy, what in hell are you -?"

Murphy turned the boy's head sideways so the dim light shining from the back door of the cabin shone on the fresh wounds that covered 10K's neck and chest.

"That piece of shit..." Murphy muttered, turning to look toward the cabin and releasing 10K. Doc came around to the side of 10K, keeping an arm wrapped tightly around his shoulder as Warren and Addy started away from the cabin toward the bottom of the hill.

"Stop..." Warren's voice sounded in the dark.

Addy came to a stop beside her, staring out into the shadows in the same direction. Neither Murphy, Doc, or 10K had started in that direction yet, but at Warren's sudden command, all but Murphy turned to look.

In the blackness of the night, maybe a hundred yards out, a few flashlights were bobbing down the hill toward them.

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	21. Shattered Glass

Chapter Twenty-One

"Shattered Glass"

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10K didn't notice the cold on his bare skin, or the steady trickling of blood down his front, as the group waited in silent apprehension at the bottom of the hill. With the cabin to their backs and the bobbing flashlights ahead, their routes of escape were few.

Left led to a steep ravine that they would have trouble scaling at the best of times. To the right lay an expanse of dry desert sand that would lead them dangerously far from their van. They ran a serious risk of losing their way if they went to the right, especially at night, and they would also run the risk of being caught in the open by the hostiles.

In those short few seconds after they noticed the flashlights above them, they all knew they were as good as trapped. All except 10K, who still couldn't string together a single coherent thought.

In 10K's mind, he was still watching Murphy's fists pound Dan's skull into broken, bleeding oblivion.

Warren held out a hand for stillness as the flashlights neared. Then - suddenly - the flashlights went dark. There was no way to distinguish movement on the hill... it was too dark to see anything. Warren, Addy, Doc, Murphy, and 10K plied themselves as close as possible to the dumpster. Hopefully in the blackness they would be just as invisible to the possible hostiles as the hostiles were to them.

A snatch of muted talk drifted down the hill, and the group could barely make out some quiet words spoken in Spanish.

"Si, claro..."

"¿Tu los viste?"

"Si..."

Warren turned her head, only her head, to mouth at the others, "They must have followed us from Roswell."

"We took their vehicle!" Said Addy in a quiet whisper.

Warren glanced at them all before turning to look back up the hill. "I guess they found another one..."

"Shit..." whispered Doc. His arm was still around 10K's shoulder in a possessive manner, being careful not to touch any fresh injuries. "We gotta move! We gotta get out of here."

Warren gave her head a subtle shake, glancing left to the desert. "If we run that way, we'll be seen. They'll catch us out there in the open. Unless..."

"Unless what?" Prompted Addy with a note of urgency in her voice.

Warren seemed to think deeply for a few more moments, every second bringing the Mexicans closer down the hill. "Unless they're not paying attention to us..."

"How do we -?"

But Addy's question was cut off as Warren flattened herself and scooted in front of Doc and 10K to reach the opposite side of the dumpster, still completely out of view. She bent down and started digging around in the trash that had spilled from the bin. Then she straightened up with something in her hand, and she aimed. She threw with all her strength at the glass window in the back door of the cabin. Whatever it was, it shattered the glass with an ear-splitting crash. There were drunken shouts from inside, and a figure appeared, yanking the door open to look out, his shotgun raised.

Warren stretched her arm across Addy, Doc, and 10K, forcing them flatten against the back side of the dumpster, out of sight of both the cabin and the yard. Murphy seemed to have some sense back in his head, because he followed suit, crouching down beside the others.

"What the bleedin' hell - ? Dan, where are ya?" Shouted Carl from the door.

The Mexicans had gotten too close to back away now. They returned shouts, and picked up their pace, and there were multiple sounds of magazines being pushed into weapons and locked, the clicks of several hammers being cocked.

"¡Vaquero!"

"¡Estamos aquí, vaquero!"

Carl let out a drunken roar. "GOD DAMNED MEXICANS! You been plaguin' us too damn long! You gone too far tonight! OY! MEN! IT'S THE MEXICANS!"

More men had begun appearing at Carl's sides before he yelled, and now they pushed past him, weapons drawn.

The Mexicans sounded like they had halted their downward hike, but the anger in their returned shouts matched that of the men down the hill. "¡Tontos, es usted!" Someone shouted, followed by, "¡Tienes algo que queremos!"

Another Mexican shouted, "Give to us! La gente que tomaste, and there will be no problema! ¿Ecuchaste?"

'WE DON'T SPEAK YOUR FUCKED UP GIBBERIN', SPIC!" Carl yelled, aiming his gun.

Finally, inevitably, someone's eyes found the form of Dan's dead body laying on the ground, surrounded by trash. "Dan... DAN!" Then someone else, "What the fuck?"

"He dead?"

"Dan!"

A tense moment of silence.

"They done... they.." Carl's voice was forced, as though it was hard for him to speak. "The Mexicans done killed him."

"¡No hemos matado a nadie!"

"No, no! No kill!"

"We want only ours, then we go! The blue, the hombre azul! His group, his group!"

"Stop lettin' 'em talk, boys!" Yelled Carl, "Haven't ye heard enough?...KILL THEM SONS'A BITCHES!"

Shots fired into the night. Warren ducked sideways, pulling 10K down next to her. "Come on!" She hissed to the others, and 10K felt Murphy close in behind him, pushing him from the back.

10K started to run. He didn't have to think about it, he just ran. Away from the dumpster, out toward the vast desert sands, his bare toes kicking up plumes of sand as he sprinted forward. Gunshots echoed against the hills behind them. The others were alongside him as he ran, but he had always been faster than any of them. He pulled out in front of them, speeding up, yanking his arm free from whoever was trying to keep a grip on it. His legs beat the shifting sand, his head was tucked low and his body forward. Wind whipped past his ears and the cold stung his almost naked body but he didn't slow down.

He didn't know how far he ran. But it seemed like only a moment before he heard Warren's voice from a little ways behind him.

"Eh! 10K!"

He came to a halt, turning to look. The rest of the group stood paused in the sand, looking over at him, while Murphy and Doc kept running until they caught up with him.

"Come on, 10K," said Doc in what sounded like a cautious tone, panting some, reaching a hand out to 10K's shoulder. "We're going up the hill. We gotta skirt around the Mexicans and the...whoever the hell else. We have to get back to the van."

10K glanced between Doc and Murphy, his eyes blank. His mind felt stuck in permanent low gear, as though he was still somehow trapped in that place of disassociation. He slowly shook his head. "I crashed the van," he informed them.

"No, we know, it's alright, kid," said Doc with a quick shake of his head. "Warren commandeered one back in Roswell."

10K looked slowly over at Murphy.

Murphy stared back at him without saying a word. It almost seemed like Murphy had reached a place of detachment, too... almost like 10K and Murphy were there together in that separated mind space, too departed to realize it.

Shock... if Doc had time to think, he would have known right away that both Murphy and 10K were showing signs of post-traumatic shock, though 10K was more deeply embedded in his shock than Murphy. 10K was still looking blankly at Murphy, who was staring just as blankly back at him, as Doc took both their arms in his. He started to lead them up the hill, forcing them to break eye contact. Addy and Warren picked up a fast pace again once they saw the other three moving, and soon the group was on their way. The road wouldn't be too far ahead of them... the gunshots were fractionally quieter in the distance, with a few rolling dunes between them and the hostiles to slightly dull the loud reports.

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They packed into the van as though nothing had ever happened to separate the group. No one said anything about Murphy taking off with 10K, no one acknowledged any events of the past 72 hours, no one spoke at all. They hardly even looked at each other as they piled into their rightful seats... Addy in the front passenger seat, Warren at the wheel... Doc and Murphy in the second row of seats, and 10K behind them in the last row. The van fired up and the engine sputtered, then steadied.

Warren pulled the vehicle away from the wreck of their old van, steering neatly back onto the road on the other side. She hit the accelerator. The van sped up quickly considering it's size... soon they were bumping down a long, straight road leading north through the hills. Warren would find her first left and take it. She didn't care what road it was, as long as it would lead them west...

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At some point not long after that, Doc cleared away the cots in the back of the van to make room for one blanket, which was laid out across the floor. He helped 10K out of his seat and into the back, where Addy had gone with her first aid kit. Doc gently helped 10K to sit, and his hand held 10K's shoulder long after he obeyed, giving a soft squeeze before letting go.

Addy set the kit down beside 10K. He looked from the kit up to her face, his eyes dull. Instead of addressing his wounds, Addy leaned forward, wrapping her arms carefully around 10K's shoulders, and pulling him into a close hug.

10K was stiff, but he allowed the gentle embrace without protest.

"I'm so sorry..." whispered Addy, tucking her face into the crook of 10K's neck, careful of his wounds. Then 10K felt hot tears drip onto his skin... Addy was crying. "I'm so, so sorry, 10K... Oh God, I'm so sorry..."

The warmth of Addy's breath and her tears on his skin sent a shiver down his spine, but he stayed silent, his eyes on the road as it sped away from him through the rear windows.

Without pressuring 10K for any kind of a response, Addy let go of him, gently sitting back on her knees and wiping her sleeve across her nose and cheeks. "You're going to be okay. I'll take care of these for you, 10K."

10K let her dress the bite wounds on his chest and neck, leaning his head where she told him to, and helping her to hold bandages in place wherever she instructed him. But the whole time, he didn't speak. He didn't even try. He didn't want to. He didn't know it, but shock was protecting him. It was enfolding him in the soft, warms hands of mercy. Not to think, not to feel... shock saved him from himself in those long minutes. After that... shock turned to fatigue that he couldn't seem to fight.

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"Put Murphy in the back... I think he's in shock, too. Someone should keep an eye on him."

"You got it, chief. 10K's asleep now. I'll stay back there with them."

"Alright, roger that. Addy, you'll have to take over in a couple hours, so get your sleep while you can."

Doc went over to Murphy. "You're coming to the back," he told him unceremoniously, a slight harshness to his voice. "Come on, hustle."

Murphy turned slowly to look at Doc. After a moment, he blinked. "What?"

"You're moving to the back so you can sleep. And so I can keep an eye on you..." in Doc's last words was a definite warning, and he eyed Murphy sharply. But he had seen what Murphy did to that man back there... seen the fire in his eyes as he took the life of 10K's attacker... "I'll help you, let's go." His voice a touch softer now.

Surprisingly, Murphy did as Doc asked. He stood, and waved off Doc's efforts to brace him, pushing past him to climb into the back. It was a small space, and 10K lay along one side, rolled over with his back facing Murphy. Someone had given the kid a big coat to use as a blanket. The coat smelled like smoke and liquor... it must have belonged to the Mexicans.

"Lie down, Murphy. Use the pack there as a pillow. Get some rest." Doc took a seat in the last row. "I'll be here."

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YouTube link for next chapter, Chpt. 22. Song is Ghosts by Banners. watch?v=U5wjOYg3SJQ


	22. We Can

Thank you all for your awesome reviews! ;)

Chapter Twenty-Two

"We Can"

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Murphy lay on his side facing 10K, on the other side of the van floor. He had pulled a corner of the blanket over part of his legs, but the heat from the front of the van had warmed up the whole vehicle, so there was no real need.

It was still very dark, and Murphy could just barely see the form of 10K laying opposite him. The boy was gripping that booze-stained, smoke-tainted jacket so close around him that one might think he was freezing to death, resting on his side, his dirty, bare feet protruding from underneath the jacket. His knees were drawn up to fit underneath, and his back was turned to Murphy.

In front of them, Doc was dozing in the closest row of seats. His quiet snoring could be heard, and an occasional snort or mumble whenever the tires took them over a bump in the road. Warren and Addy were up front. Warren had given up the wheel to Addy an hour ago, and the older woman was resting her head against the cold glass of the passenger side window, her eyes closed.

But Murphy couldn't sleep. He didn't even blink. He just gazed across the space between him and 10K, quiet and unmoving.

10K had shut him out. This much he knew for sure, and it had happened before the bite. He had closed him off because he had seen too much. And for some reason, for some inexplicable, unfamiliar reason, Murphy couldn't stop himself from agonizing over it in the darkness.

This time... this time was so very much worse. He couldn't foresee a way to mend things with 10K now, the boy would never let him. It was two steps forward, ten steps back... ten thousand steps back...

Why were people so bad? Was humanity a thing worth saving?

He had asked himself that question many times since the outbreak, but lying there, he asked himself in earnest. It seemed at every turn, they had come upon people who showed themselves to be liars, killers, thieves... and worse. Just evil... or as close to evil as any one person could get. If Murphy believed in evil that night, he would have decided right then that humanity was evil. But he didn't believe in good or evil... he only believed in shit luck, survival, and revenge.

Murphy could still see it in his mind. Their leering faces, their dirty fingers gripping old mugs of whiskey. He could feel it in his body, everything that 10K had seen and felt, the wandering hands, the weight of the dead man on top of him, the painful grip in his hair...

He reached up to rub a hand over his soft, stubble-covered head, a movement that sent waves of pain through his arms.

His knuckles had swollen to twice their size, and they ached with a constant throbbing. His wrists were still covered in his own blood, and the blood of the man he had killed. The ache reached his elbows, pulsing and stabbing in his muscles as though shards broken from the dead man's skull had embedded themselves deep in his bones.

None of this would have happened if he hadn't taken 10K and tried to run...

In front, Addy's soft voice drifted back to them. She was quietly humming a tune, a somber, three-note song. It was beautiful and haunting, and the sound seemed to harmonize gently with the whirring of the tires. She must have thought all the occupants of the car were asleep...

Murphy adjusted a little on his side, trying to keep his eyes open. His eyelids were starting to feel heavy, but he didn't want to sleep. He shifted positions again, giving his head a little shake in an attempt to stave off fatigue, but his eyelids drooped a little more.

No!

His eyes snapped open again. He ground his teeth so hard they caused loud wrenching sounds, and Doc snorted, and started to snore louder.

The images were so clear in Murphy's mind, and the sounds so real. The memories of that night seemed like Murphy's own.

If it was the last thing he did, the thing he died doing... he would wipe from the face of the planet the people who had attacked him. No... attacked 10K.

There was a scuffling on the other side of the van floor. 10K had changed position, and now Murphy could see his face. He stared at the boy's pale skin, but he couldn't make out any of his features in the dark. Then 10K moved again, rolling onto his back, his head ducking out of Murphy's sight, and then back again. Murphy heard his breathing speed up sharply as the boy rolled onto his other side now. His shifting dislodged the jacket and it fell off him, but 10K kicked out his foot, pushing it further away. His breath stopped for a second - then he gave a muffled grunt, followed by more rapid breathing.

He was having a nightmare.

Murphy didn't need to be telepathic to know what the nightmare was about.

"Kid," he muttered, propping himself up on one elbow to look over at 10K.

The boy gave no sign of waking. His chest rose and fell rapidly, his hands pushing against the side of the van, and then he flipped over, his legs kicking out again.

Before he knew what he was doing, Murphy had pushed himself over, moving closer to 10K across the confined space. He reached a hand out, gently touching 10K's shoulder between the bandages. "Hey... kid," he whispered, giving him a gentle shake.

10K blanched at the physical contact and he grabbed at Murphy's hand, trying to push him away. In front of them, Doc's snores and Addy's humming disguised the muted sounds of 10K's distress, so neither Warren nor Addy could hear.

"10K," Murphy whispered, resisting 10K's delirious efforts to push him back. He raised himself up so that he was half crouched, half sprawled, leaning over 10K. "Hey! Kid, wake up."

10K grunted and grabbed hold of the front of Murphy's shirt, the one Doc had given him. He pushed hard, his knees coming up and bracing against Murphy's stomach, shoving hard. His eyes opened and he stared sightlessly up at Murphy's face, panting. "Get... off me..." he rasped on an exhale.

Murphy let himself drop backward a little. He couldn't tell if 10K was awake... the boys fingers were still gripping in the fabric of Murphy's shirt, but his eyes were almost closing. Murphy looked around the floor in a confused manner, then looked back down at 10K.

"Kid?" He whispered. "Hey... you awake?"

10K's eyes closed, and his breathing became deep and even. His fingers grasped like vices in the shirt, and Murphy couldn't move away. He just stayed like that without pulling back, and without trying to pry 10K's hand off him. He remained completely still, staring down while 10K slept.

The van bumped gently over a pothole, and Doc's snoring hitched, then returned. Addy's humming had taken on a fourth note, a high, gentle pitch, and it made the whole tune seem less haunting.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Murphy realized this was the most he had ever cared for someone else's wellbeing.

...

...

...

"Addy... come here."

 _Sleep... warmth._

 _...Dreamlessness..._

10K had moved into a realm of deep, dark comfort, and he didn't want to wake up. He wanted to stay there as long as he could.

He was so warm.

But slowly his eyes opened. He turned his head, looking up and blinking as he adjusted to the light. The first thing he saw were two faces peering over the back seat, looking down at him. Addy and Doc. He blinked more sleep away...

Addy smiled softly, and 10K saw affection in her eyes. Beside her, Doc looked caught between confusion and a smile.

Then 10K realized he was covered with a blanket. The warmth came from beside him... Murphy lay there on his back, right next to him, their shoulders touching. He was fast asleep. The man had pulled the floor blanket out from underneath them, and moved close enough to cover them both with it.

...

...

...

This is it, my friends! This concludes our story. Thank you all for your wonderful support :)


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